Harry Potter meets the Devil's Child
by Nadina V Conner
Summary: base on the the chamber of secrets but with my own twist to it. there's a new girl in Hogwarts but it seems that she's hiding something. Harry and the gang tries to figure out who's Devil's Child at the same time fightin evil. full summary inside. OCxHP
1. Chapter 1

**HiHi! please call me Moon. ok, i was reading some Harry Potter stories when this came up. the truth is, i'm not really a big fan of the second book and this is the only thing near me at the time. yes this is base on the second book. this is only to see how many people like my story. also, this is an oc story and some characters might be a little ooc.**

**Summary: Harry Potter had to face Voldemort last year. Now he's about to start his second year at Hogwarts. Something is happening to the students and Harry seems to be the only one that can stop it. But he seem to be in a bit of trouble himself. what's the trouble you may ask? Let's just say it has something to do with that new exchange student that every boy seem to be falling head over heels for. Harry and the gang just want to know one thing, well maybe two, why is she so sad and alone and why are some of her things have the name Devil's Child on them when they look new? **

**Disclamier: i dont own anything, no matter what people say. the only thing i own is the girl that will have a name soon.**

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**The worst birthday**

Not for the first time, an argument had broken out over breakfast at number four, Privet Drive. Mr. Vernon Dursley had been woken in the early hours of the morning by a load, hooting noise from his nephew Harry's room.

"Third time this week!" he roared across the table. "If you can't control that owl, it'll have to go!"

Harry tried, yet again, to explain.

"She's bored," he said. "She's used to flying around outside. If I can only let her out at night-"

"Do I look stupid?" snarled Uncle Vernon, a bit of fried egg dangling from his bushy mustache. "I know what'll happen if that owl's let out."

He exchanged dark looks with his wife, Petunia.

What none of them seem to notice was that just outside their window was a girl about Harry's age, sitting under the tree they had in the front yard. She was a small slender girl, with brown-reddish eyes and long soft brown hair.

The girl seem to be listening to them arguing. Her eyes staring at the ground with her head being held up by her hand. She didn't think that it was fair that Hedwig couldn't fly around at night.

"I want more bacon." Dudley told his mother.

"There's more in the frying pan, sweetums," said Aunt Petunia, turning misty eyes on her massive son. "We must build you up while we're got the chance…. I don't like the sound of that school food…"

"Nonsense, Petunia, I never went hungry whhe I was at Smeltings," said Uncle Vernon heartily. "Dudley gets enough, don't you, son?"

_Sure he does, that pig._ The girl thought to herself, sadly, she forgot to make sure that only she heard it because Harry also heard it.

Harry blinked a couple of times to make sure he just imagine it. That it was all in his head. Dudley had asked Harry to pass the frying pan when he accidentally said magic. His family freaked out and Uncle Vernon started to yell at him about saying the 'm' word. But Harry couldn't shake that felling that someone was listening to their conversation.

At the moment, Uncle Vernon cleared his throat importantly and said, "Now, as we all know, today is a very important day."

Harry didn't even bother to look up. Today was the day that they had a dinner party, in hopes that this rich builder would order a lot of drills from Uncle Vernon.

After they ran through the schedule, in which Harry would stay in his room and pretend that he wasn't there. The girl outside rolled her eyes. She couldn't believe them, then again, the Dursleys weren't one of this close knit families.

Harry left through the back door. It was a brilliant, sunny day. He crossed the lawn, slumped down on the garden bench, and sang under his breath:

"Happy birthday to me…happy birthday to me…"

Harry didn't even notice the girl until she was a few feet away from him. She cleared her throat and Harry looked at her in surprise.

"O, please excuse me if I startle you. But I couldn't help but overhear that today was your birthday. Is that true?"

Harry dumbly nodded, shock that someone was actually talking to him. He shook his head and smiled at her. "Yes it is, but I really don't look forward to them."

The girl sadly smile. "I can guess why. O and happy birthday by the way. I just move here last week, two houses down."

"Thanks. Are you just getting to know the neighborhood?" Harry nicely asked.

The girl nodded. Soon they started a conversation till Harry looked past her and saw that the hedge behind them was staring at them. Two enormous green eyes had appeared among the leaves.

The girl looked at her watch and gasp. "I'm so sorry, I have to go, I still need to help my parents unpack." Harry nodded and said goodbye, still staring at the hedge. The girl left as Dudley came around.

"I know what day it is, and was that new girl talking to you?" Dudley asked, confuse that someone was actually talking to Harry.

The huge eyes blinked and vanished.

"What? And yes, she was talking to me." as Harry said this, he realized that he forgot to ask her what her name was.

"I know what day it is," Dudley dropped the subject about the girl, since he thought that she was just being stupid, talking to Harry.

"Well done,' said Harry. "You finally learned the days of the week."

"Today's your birthday," sneered Dudley. "Don't you have any friends at that freak school?"

Harry didn't pay much attention to Dudley, he was always like this when they're alone. After scaring Dudley and duck as his aunt throw a very aim soapy frying pan towards his head.

Soon, Harry had to clean the windows, wash the car, mow the lawn, trim the flowerbeds, prune and water the roses, and repaint the garden bench.

After Harry finally finished his chores, his Aunt Petunia called him in and told him to walk on the newspaper.

"Eat quickly! The Masons will be here soon!" snapped Aunt Petunia, pointing to slices of breads and a lump of cheese on the kitchen table. She was already wearing a salmon-pink cocktail dress.

Harry washed his hands and bolted down his pitiful supper. The moment he had finished. Aunt Petunia whisked away his plate. "Upstairs! Hurry!"

Harry was warned one last time before the guests arrive. He crossed to his bedroom on tiptoe, slipped inside, closed the door, and turned to collapse on his bed.

The trouble was, there was already someone sitting on it.

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**So, what do you think? You also might had notice that i used some parts from the book. i'll be doing that with every chapter while adding my own stuff to it. **

**please review! i love reviews, they tell me what people think about my stories. also please tell me if i should continue. thanks!**

**in the next chapter: the new girl's name will revived with some surprising information that Harry didn't expect. what is this information? stay tune!**

**lol, R&R thanks again!**

**~Moon**


	2. Chapter 2

**yes, i am bored, but im sick, stuck in the house with a computer near me. i just hope someone likes me story. o also, the new girl from the last chapter has a name and is revive here in this chapter. also, some of the chapters will be like the book, but they will be change to my liking. enjoy!**

**Disclamer: hey, you know the drill **

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Dobby's weird warning

Harry managed not to shout out, but it was a close thing. The little creature on the bed had large, bat-like ears and bulging green eyes the size of tennis balls. Harry know instantly that this was what had been watching him and that new girl out of the garden hedge that morning.

Harry mentally slap himself for not asking her name as they stare at each other.

The creature slipped off the bed and bowed so low that the end of its long, thin nose touched the carpet. Harry noticed that it was wearing what looked like an old pillowcase, with rips for arm- and leg-holes.

"Err- hello,' said Harry nervously.

"Harry potter!" said the creature in a high-pitched voice Harry was sure would carry down the stairs. "So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, sir… Such an honor it is…. As it was when I meet her. She was so nice to tell me where you live."

"Th-thank you? And who?" asked Harry, edging along the wall and sinking into his desk chair, next to Hedwig, who was asleep in her large cage. "Who are you also?"

"Dobby, sir. Just Dobby the house-elf," said the creature. "Please forgive me sir, but I'm not allow to say who."

"Oh - really?" asked Harry. Dobby nodded, making his bat-like ears flap on his head. Harry begin to wonder if this mystery girl is that new girl. But Harry shook his head. She doesn't know about his world.

"Sir, dobby has come to protect Harry Potter, to warn him, even if he does have to face his wizard family later …. Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts."

There was silence before Harry stammered about needing to go but to Hogwarts. Dobby argue, saying that Harry would be in mortal danger.

"Why?" said Harry in surprise.

"There is a plot, Harry Potter. A plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year," whisper Dobby, suddenly trembling all over. "Dobby has known it for months, sir. Also she, she told Dobby that she might have to go to Hogwarts in order to try to stop it. But if she goes to Hogwarts, then it's more dangerous then Dobby imagines, sir! Harry Potter must not put himself in peril. He is too important, sir!"

"What terrible things? Who's plotting them?" said Harry at once. "Who's also known's this?"

Dobby made a funny choking noise and then banged his head frantically against the wall.

"All right!" cried Harry, grabbing the elf's arm to stop him. "You can't tell me. I understand. But why are warning me? A sudden, unpleasant thought struck him. "Please tell me this hasn't got anything to do with Vol- sorry- with You-Know-Who, has it? You could just shake or nod," he didn't want Dobby to start hitting his head on the wall again.

Slowly, Dobby shook his head. After Harry asked him a few more questions, Dobby bounded off the bed, seized Harry's desk lamp, and started beating himself around the head before Harry could stop him. This action cause Uncle Vernon to come into Harry's room. Harry manage to hide Dobby inside his closet as his door handle turn.

"What- the- devil- are- you- doing?" said Uncle Vernon through gritted teeth. Harry had his back against the closet door when he felt Dobby hit the door when Uncle Vernon said devil, like he was giving him a clue, but to what? "One more sound and you'll wish you'd never been born, boy!"

After that, he left the room. Harry, shaking, let dobby out of the closet. Soon, Harry found out that it was Dobby that had stop his letters from his friends. Then for some reason, Harry was running after Dobby, but very quiet, so he can stop him and get his letters back.

As Harry run into the kitchen, he felt his stomach disappear when he saw his Aunt's masterpiece of a pudding, floating up near the ceiling. On top of a cupboard in the corner crouched Dobby.

Harry tried pleading Dobby, but Dobby just give him a tragic look before making the pudding fall onto the floor. cream splattered the windows and walls as the dish shattered. With a crack like a whip, Dobby vanished.

Soon, Harry found himself holding a mop and cleaning the mess as Uncle Vernon try to clam the guests, that is, until a huge barn owl swooped in and scared Mrs. Mason making Mr. Mason to having to take them home.

Uncle Vernon had made Harry read the letter which told him about the accident and not being able to use magic during summer. Which lead to having Harry drag to his room.

The next morning, Uncle Vernon had paid a man to fit bars on Harry's window. He found himself fitted a cat-flap in the bedroom door, so that small amounts of food could be pushed inside three times a day. They let Harry out to use the bathroom morning and evening. Otherwise, he was locked in his room around the clock.

Three days later, Harry had given up hope of getting out of his situation. He lay on his bed watching the sun sinking behind the bars on bars on the window and wondered in miserably what was going to happen to him.

He couldn't escape with magic without having Hogwarts expelling him. Harry had lost his only weapon when the Dursleys had found out that he couldn't use magic outside of school. Dobby might had save him from whatever horrible thing at Hogwarts, but the ways things were going, he'd probably starve to death anyway.

The room was glowing dark. Exhausted, stomach rumbling, mind spinning over some unanswered questions, Harry fell into an uneasy sleep.

He dreamed that he was on a zoo show, with a card reading, UNDERAGE WIZARD attached to his cage. People goggled through the bars at him as he lay, starving and weak, on a bed of straw. He saw Dobby's face in the crowd and shouted out for help, but dobby called, "Harry Potter is safe there, sir, till she stops that plot!" and vanished. Then the Dursleys appeared and Dudley rattled the bars of the cage, laughing at him.

"Stop it!" Harry screamed. Then, to his surprise, the scene change. Harry looked around, confuse. He was at a bright room. "H-hello?"

"Turn around," said a female voice. Harry turned around to find a cloaked figure watching him. He could tell that she was about the same age, but couldn't see her face.

"Who are you?" asked Harry.

The cloaked girl bow before speaking. "Angelina, Angelina D. Colfer. But please call me Angel."

"Angel, where are we?" Harry asked. Angel let out a small laugh.

"Why, we're in your mind. I just came to tell you to be careful this year." Angel reply. "I need to go, it seems you are needed, good-bye."

Before Harry could say anything, he manage to see her eyes, those brown-reddish eyes. "You're that…"

Angel place a finger on her lips to silence him. She waved good-bye as Harry woke up.

He sighed and turned towards the window. Moonlight was shinning through the bars on the window. And someone was goggling through the bar at him: a freckled-faced, red-haired, long-nosed someone. (I just love how they describe Ron, don't you?)

Ron Weasley was outside Harry's window.

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**so? how is it? please review will you? i love getting reviews. also, what did you think about Angel's name? R&R thanks! **

**~moon**


	3. Chapter 3

**Merry Christmas! **

**yes! my goal was to update on Christmas day and i did it! now here it is. also, i was kinda in a rush at the end so sorry if it doesnt make sence. enjoy~!**

**Disclamer: *playing on my game* you know the drill**

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At flourish and blotts

Life at the Burrow was as different as possible from life on Privet Drive. Yes that's right, Harry's been living at the Burrow for some time. On the third day trap in his room, Ron had arrive with Fred and George in a flying car. They manage to get all of Harry's stuff from under the stairs and escape Uncle Vernon when he tried to stop Harry from leaving.

Harry told Ron and his brothers of what happen with Dobby. What Harry didn't expect was that someone helped them find his home. Turns out that someone sent Ron a letter telling him that he needed help. When they got to the Burrow, and after the brothers got yelled at by Mrs. Weasleys and de-gnoming the garden, Ron show Harry the letter.

_Dear Ronald Weasley,_

_Please excuse this sudden letter, but I had heard that you are good friends with Harry Potter. I thought I should inform you that Harry didn't receive any of your letters and is currently lock inside his room by his muggle family. Please do try to help him so he can go to Hogwarts for his second year. Perhaps, you should talk to your parents about this and see what they can do about it. Just try not to get into any trouble. Thank you for reading this. Hope we meet later on in the year or so._

_~A.D.C. _

"Hey Ron? Who's A.D.C.?" Harry asked as he read the letter.

"Have no clue man, I was hoping you know," reply Ron.

Harry shook his head and handed the note back to Ron.

Harry heard from Hogwarts one sunny morning about a week after he had arrived at the Burrow. Mr. Weasley passed Harry and Ron identical envelopes of yellowish parchment, addressed in green ink. He also pass Fred and George their letters.

For a few minutes there was silence as they all read their letters. Harry's told him to catch the Hogwarts Express as usual from King's Cross station on September first. There was also a list of new books he'd need for the coming new year.

Second-year students will require:

_The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2_

by Miranda Goshawk

_Break with a Banshee _by Gilderoy Lockhart

_Gadding with Ghouls _by Gilderoy Lockhart

_Holidays with Hags _by Gilderoy Lockhart

_Travels with Trolls _by Gilderoy Lockhart

_Voyages with Vampires _by Gilderoy Lockhart

_Wanderings with Werewolves _by Gilderoy Lockhart

_Year with the Yeti _by Gilderoy Lockhart (these books have weird names, don't they?)

Turns out that everyone had been told that they need to get all of Lockhart's books.

Soon, Percy enter the kitchen, he was already dress, his Hogwarts perfect badge pinned to his sweater vest.

"Morning, all," said Percy briskly. "Lovely day."

He sat down in the only remaining chair but leapt up again almost immediately, pulling from underneath him a molting, gray feather duster - at least, that was what Harry thought it was, until he saw that it was breathing.

"Errol!" said Ron, taking the limp owl from Percy and extracting a letter from under its wing. "Finally- he's got Hermione's answer. I wrote to her saying we wear going to try and rescue you from the Dursleys, and also to ask if she knows anyone known as A.D.C."

He carried Errol to a perch just inside the back door and tried to stand him on it, but Errol flopped straight off again so Ron laid him on the draining board instead, muttering, "Pathetic." Then he ripped open Hermione's letter and read it out loud:

" '_Dear Ron, and Harry if you're there,_

" '_I hope everything went all right and that Harry is okay and that you didn't do anything illegal to get him out, Ron, because that would get Harry into trouble, too. I've been really worried and if Harry is all right, will you please let me know at once, but perhaps it would be better if you used a different owl, because I think another delivery might finish your one off. I'm afraid that I don't know anyone that goes by A.D.C. maybe she'll show herself to us later on._

" '_I'm very busy with schoolwork, of course'- _How can she be?" said Ron in horror. "We're on vacation!- _'and we're going to London next Wednesday to buy my new books. Why don't we meet in Diagon Ally?_

" '_Let me know what's happening as soon as you can. Love from Hermione.' "_

"Well, that fits in nicely, we can go and get all of your things then, too," said Mrs. Weasley, starting to clear the table.

After breakfast, Harry, Ron, Fred, and George went to play some Quidditch.

Mrs. Weasley woke them all early the following Wednesday. After a quick half a dozen bacon sandwiches each, they pulled on their coats and Mrs. Weasley took a flowerpot off the kitchen mantelpiece and peered inside.

She said something about running low and they needed some more. Then she offered him the flowerpot.

Harry stared at them, all watching him. He stammered about what he was suppose to do when Ron told his parents that he never Floo powder.

Fred showed how to Floo powder along with George and Mr. Weasley. They told him to wait till he sees Fred and George.

Trying hard to bear all this in mind, Harry took a pinch of Floo powder and walked to edge of the fire. He took a deep breath, scattered the powder into the flames, and stepped forward; the fire felt like a warm breeze; he opened his mouth and immediately swallowed a lot of ash.

"D-dia-gon Alley," he coughed.

It felt as though he were being sucked down a giant drain. He seemed to be spinning very fast - the roaring in his ears was deafening - he tried to keep his eyes open but the whirl of green flames made him feel sick - something hard knocked his elbow and he tucked it in tightly, still spinning and spinning - now it felt cold hands were slapping his face - squinting through his glasses he saw a blurred stream of fireplaces and snatched glimpses of the rooms beyond - his bacon sandwiches were churning inside him - he closed his eyes again wishing it would stop, and then -

He fell, face forward, onto cold stone and felt the bridge of his glasses up to his eyes. He was quite alone, but where he was, he had no idea. All he could tell was that he was standing in the stone fireplace of what looked like a large, dimly lit wizard's shop - nut nothing in here was ever likely to be on a Hogwarts school list.

A glass case nearby held a withered hand on a cushion, a bloodstained pack of cards, and a staring glass eye. Evil-looking masks upon the counter, and rusty, spiked instruments hung from the ceiling. Even worse, the dark, narrow street Harry could see through the dusty shop window was definitely not Diagon Alley.

The sooner he got out of here, the better. Nose still stringing where it had hit the hearth, Harry made his way swiftly and silently toward the door, but before he'd got halfway toward it, four people appeared on the other side of the glass - and one of them was the very last person Harry wanted to meet when he was lost, covered in soot, and wearing broken glasses: Draco Malfoy.

Harry quickly looked around and spotted a large black cabinet to his left; he shot inside it and pulled the doors closed, leaving a small crack to peer through. Seconds later, a bell clanged, and Malfoy stepped into the shop.

The man who followed could only be Draco's father. He had the same pale, pointed face and identical cold gray eyes. Harry didn't recognize the other two people, but he could tell that they were both girls. They looked around the items, like they were looking for something they needed. Mr. Malfoy crossed the shop, looking lazily at the items on display, and rang a bell on the counter before turning to his head to his son and saying, "Touch nothing, Draco, and don't bother the young ladies here."

Malfoy, who had reached for the glass eye, said, "I thought you were going to buy me a present."

The two girl's sighed and walked near where Harry was hiding. He was able to get a good look at them. Both girls had clocks but only one had their hood up, so he couldn't see her face. The other girl had pale face, like she spent to much in the dark. What scared him the most was her eyes. They were dark brown and had something else that he didn't want to know.

"I said I would buy you a racing broom," said Draco's father, drumming his fingers on the counter.

Soon, Malfoy started to complain about how he wasn't on the house team and that Harry was. The two girl's didn't pay much attention to them. Mr. Malfoy sighed and turned to a stooping man that had appeared behind the counter, smoothing his greasy hair back from his face.

Mr. Malfoy told Mr. Borgin that he was selling and handed him a list. Soon, Mr. Malfoy started to have an argument with Draco. Harry notice that the girls won't paying attention, they were looking at a book.

"Hey, Mr. Borgin, how much is this book?" asked the girl without the hood.

"Ah, seventeen Galleons," Said Mr. Borgin, happy that he made a sale. "But, you should -" He was cut off as the hooded girl pick up the book and pay for it. "um ok, thanks."

The two girls nodded and left the store. Soon after, both Malfoy left. Harry sighed and got out of his hiding place and went to look for a way out. He met Hagrid, who took him to Diagon Alley from Knockturn Alley where he was reunited with the Weasleys.

Later on they went to Gringotts and collected money. Harry told Hermione and Ron about what happen in Borgin and Burkes.

After they got some money, they bought everything they needed for the school year and went to Flourish and Blotts. They saw a large crowd trying to get in. Then they notice a large banner stretched across the upper window.

GILDEROY LOCKHART

Will be signing copies of his autobiography

MAGICAL ME

Today 12:30 p.m. to 4:30 p.m.

Hermione squealed and the gang all squeezed inside and grabbed a copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 and sneaked up the line to where the rest of the Weasley were standing.

Then everything went to fast for Harry, there he was standing next to the Weasleys, then next to Gilderoy Lockhart taking a picture, then standing in front of Malfoy, then facing the hooded girl that he saw in Borgin and Burkes.

"I came here with my friend for her to get her books and I have to stop a fight?" said the girl sighing. Malfoy glared at her but when she turned around to glare at him, he looked always. "I'm going, come on Ro!"

Ro sighed and shook her head and followed her Friend. "Really, what do we have to do to get some peace around here?"

Ron and Harry said goodbye to the Grangers and were heading towards the pup to Floo back home.

Harry took off his glasses and put them safely in his pocket before helping himself to Floo powder. It definitely wasn't his favorite way to travel. But he sure agree that today was his weirdest day ever. As he came home, he suddenly thought of something. That hooded girl sounded familiar like he heard her voice somewhere. Maybe he'll remember later.

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**So? how is it? also, i wanted to ask, should Angel be paired with someone? if so, with who. also thanks for reading~!**

**R&R and again, MERRY CHRISTMAS~!**

**~moon**


	4. Chapter 4

**ok, almost all day, i've been working on this chapter so don't sue me if something is wrong or doesn't make sence. also Happy new year! **

**Disclamer: you know what im going to say.**

** Enjoy!**

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The Whomping Willow

The end of the summer vacation came too quickly for Harry's liking. He was looking forward to getting back to Hogwarts, but his month at the Burrow had been the happiest of his life. It was difficult not to feel jealous of Ron when he thought of the Dursleys and the sort of welcome he could expect next time he turned up on Privet Drive.

On their last evening, Mrs. Weasley conjured up a sumptuous dinner that included all of Harry's favorite things, ending with a mouthwatering treacle pudding. Fred and George rounded off the evening with a display of Filibuster fireworks; they filled the kitchen with red and blue stars that bounced from ceiling to wall for at least half an hour. Then it was time for a last mug of hot chocolate and bed.

It took a long while to get started next morning. They were up at dawn, but somehow they still seemed to have a great deal to do. Mrs. Weasley dashed about in a bad mood looking for spare socks and quills; people kept colliding on the stairs, half-dressed with bits of toast in their hands; and Mr. Weasley nearly broke his neck, tripping over a stray chicken as he crossed the yard carrying Ginny's trunk to the car.

Harry couldn't see how eight people, six large trunks, two owls, and a rat were going to fit into one small Ford Anglia. He had reckoned, of course, without the special features that Mr. Weasley had added.

"Not a word to Molly," he whispered to Harry as he opened the trunk and showed him how it had been magically expanded so that the luggage fitted easily.

When at last they were all in the car, Mrs. Weasley glanced into the back seat, where Harry, Ron, Fred, George, and Percy were all sitting comfortably side by side, and said, "Muggles do know more than we give them credit for, don't they?" She and Ginny got into the front seat, which had been stretched so that it resembled a park bench. "I mean, you'd never know it was this roomy from the outside, would you?"

Mr. Weasley started up the engine and they trundled out of the yard, Harry turning back for a last look at the house. He barely had time to wonder when he'd see it again when they were back. George had forgotten his box of Filibuster fireworks. Five minutes after that, they skidded to a halt in the yard so that Fred could run in for his broomstick. They had almost reached the highway when Ginny shrieked that she'd left her diary.

By the time she had clambered back into the car, they were running very late, and tempers were running high.

Mr. Weasley glanced at his watch and then at his wife. Soon they started to argue about wither or not to use this new thing that he install. Mrs. Weasley won.

They reached King's Cross at a quarter to eleven. Mr. Weasley dashed across the road to get trolleys for their trunks and they all hurried into the station.

Harry had caught the Hogwarts Express the previous year. The tricky part was getting onto platform nine and three-quarters, which wasn't visible to the Muggle eye. What you had to do was walk through the solid barrier dividing platforms nine and ten. It didn't hurt, but it had to be done carefully so that none of the Muggles noticed you vanishing.

"Percy first," said Mrs. Weasley, looking nervously at the clock overhead, which showed they had only five minutes to disappear casually through the barrier.

Percy strode briskly forward and vanished. Mr. Weasley went next; Fred and George followed.

"I'll take Ginny and you two come right after us," Mrs. Weasley told Harry and Ron, grabbing Ginny's hand and setting off. In the blink of an eye they were gone.

"Let's go together, we've only got a minute," Ron said to Harry.

"Yes, and please do hurry it up?" Ron and Harry looked over there shudders and saw a girl about their age waiting for her turn. They nodded.

Harry made sure that Hedwig's cage was safely wedged on top of his trunk and wheeled his trolley around to face the barrier. He felt perfectly confident; this wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as using Floo powder. Both of them bent low over the handles of their trolleys and walked purposefully toward the barrier, gathering speed. A few feet away from it, they broke into a run and —

CRASH.

For some reason, they both crash against the barrier. The girl just stared at them and then explain to a guard that they lost control of their trolley.

"We're going to miss the train," Ron whispered. "I don't understand why the gateway's sealed itself —"

Harry looked up at the giant clock with a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach. Ten seconds… nine seconds…

He wheeled his trolley forward cautiously until it was right against the barrier and pushed with all his might. The metal remained solid.

Three seconds… two seconds… one second…

The girl sighed, she knew the train was gone. "Nice going."

Ron pressed his ear to the cold barrier.

"Can't hear a thing," he said tensely, "What're we going to do? I don't know how long it'll take Mum and Dad to get back to us."

Harry started to say something about waiting by the car and Ron saying that they should use it to get to Hogwarts. They didn't notice that the girl had reached into her bag and grab a piece of paper and started to write something.

Soon Harry's feeling of panic turned suddenly to excitement when Ron said that his parents didn't need the car and that they can get home without it.

Then, Harry remember the girl. He turned around to face her when he recognize who it was. "Your that girl."

The girl looked up and recognize Harry. "O, hey looks like I'm waiting here."

"Why don't you come with us? You are going to Hogwarts too right?" Harry asked. The girl nodded but decline his offer. Saying something about not wanting to start off on the wrong foot. "By the way, I didn't get your name. I'm Harry Potter and this is Ron Weasley."

"HI," Ron was to busy trying to collect his stuff.

"Angel," she was finishing the note. "Hey can I use your owl?"

Harry agree and soon Hedwig was flying to wherever Angel send her.

Angel grumbled in the backseat of the car. She didn't know how she got stuck in this situation. All she knew was that they drag her to the car and now they're heading towards Hogwarts.

"So, what house are you in Angel?" Ron asked, trying to make a conversation. He didn't like the kind of aura he was feeling right now.

"I'm starting this year. I'm suppose to be in second year." Angel reply kind of darkly.

That was end of their conversation. Soon Harry and Ron started to talk and laugh while Angel fell asleep in the back.

Some time later, the car started to whine. Ron and Harry exchange nervous glances.

"It's probably just tired," said Ron. "It's never been this far before…"

And they both pretended not to notice the whining growing louder and louder as the sky became steadily darker. It was amazing that didn't wake up Angel. Stars were blossoming in the blackness. Harry pulled his sweater back on, trying to ignore the way the windshield wipers were now waving feebly, as though in protest

"Not far," said Ron, more to the car than to Harry, "not far now," and he patted the dashboard nervously.

When they flew back beneath the clouds a little while later, they had to squint through the darkness for a landmark they knew.

"There!" Harry shouted, making Ron and Hedwig jump. "Straight ahead!"

Silhouetted on the dark horizon, high on the cliff over the lake, stood the many turrets and towers of Hogwarts castle.

But the car had begun to shudder and was losing speed.

"Come on," Ron said cajolingly, giving the steering wheel a little shake, "nearly there, come on —"

The engine groaned. Narrow jets of steam were issuing from under the hood. Harry found himself gripping the edges of his seat very hard as they flew toward the lake.

The car gave a nasty wobble. Glancing out of his window, Harry saw the smooth, black, glassy surface of the water, a mile below. Ron's knuckles were white on the steering wheel. The car wobbled again.

"Come on," Ron muttered.

They were over the lake — the castle was right ahead — Ron put his foot down.

There was a loud clunk, a splutter, and the engine died completely.

"Uh-oh," said Ron, into the silence.

The nose of the car dropped. They were falling, gathering speed, heading straight for the solid castle wall.

"Noooooo!" Ron yelled, swinging the steering wheel around; they missed the dark stone wall by inches as the car turned in a great arc, soaring over the dark greenhouses, then the vegetable patch, and then out over the black lawns, losing altitude all the time.

Ron let go of the steering wheel completely and pulled his wand out of his back pocket —

"STOP! STOP!" he yelled, whacking the dashboard and the windshield, but they were still plummeting, the ground flying up toward them —

"WATCH OUT FOR THAT TREE!" Harry bellowed, lunging for the steering wheel, but too late —

CRUNCH.

With an earsplitting bang of metal on wood, they hit the thick tree trunk and dropped to the ground with a heavy jolt. Steam was billowing from under the crumpled hood; Hedwig was shrieking in terror; a golf-ball-size lump was throbbing on Harry's head where he had hit the windshield; and to his right, Ron let out a low, despairing groan.

"Are you okay?" Harry said urgently. "Angel! Are you ok back there?"

Angel had woken up when they crash. "Yes."

"My wand," said Ron, in a shaky voice. "Look at my wand —"

It had snapped, almost in two; the tip was dangling limply, held on by a few splinters. Harry opened his mouth to say he was sure they'd be able to mend it up at the school, but he never even got started.

At that very moment, something hit his side of the car with the force of a charging bull, sending him lurching sideways into Ron, just as an equally heavy blow hit the roof.

"What's happen —?"

Ron gasped, staring through the windshield, and Harry looked around just in time to see a branch as thick as a python smash into it. The tree they had hit was attacking them. Its trunk was bent almost double, and its gnarled boughs were pummeling every inch of the car it could reach.

Ron scream while Angel just watched, looking everywhere. She knew what's happening. Ron try to run for it but couldn't. The car reverse and Angel eyes widen.

"Harry, Ron get out of the car now!" They both did what she said. Angel used a spell to make their luggage appear with the rest of everyone else luggage. "I'm allow to use magic for now, so don't ask."

Angel got out when the tree decided to attack again. She duck but got hurt. "Damn!" the tree attack again and knocked her out.

"Angel!" Ron and Harry yelled and try to get to her. The car was long gone, but they don't care right now.

The tree attack them but dodge Angel. They both jump out of the way. It seemed that the tree was protecting Angel.

"What are you doing…" said a very cold voice right behind them but dropped off when he saw Angel, "I'll deal with you later."

Harry spun around. There, his black robes rippling in a cold breeze, stood Severus Snape. He was a thin man with sallow skin, a hooked nose, and greasy, shoulder-length black hair, and at this moment, he froze the tree and carry Angel into the castle. But not before glaring at them in a way that told Harry he and Ron were in very deep trouble.

"Follow me," said Snape.

Not daring even to look at each other, Harry and Ron followed Snape up the steps into the vast, echoing entrance hall, which was lit with flaming torches. A delicious smell of food was wafting from the Great Hall, but Snape led them away from the warmth and light, down a narrow stone staircase that led into the dungeons.

"In!" he said, opening a door halfway down the cold passageway and pointing.

They entered Snape's office, shivering. The shadowy walls were lined with shelves of large glass jars, in which floated all manner of revolting things Harry didn't really want to know the name of at the moment. The fireplace was dark and empty. Snape told them to wake in here while he took Angel the hospital wing and closed the door at them. Soon he return.

"So," he said softly, "the train isn't good enough for the famous Harry Potter and his faithful sidekick Weasley. Wanted to arrive with a bang, did we, boys? Also, thought it was a good idea to bring another student with you? Thought that she'll tell everyone how great it was to hang with you?"

"No, sir, it was the barrier at King's Cross, it —"

"Silence!" said Snape coldly. "What have you done with the car?" Ron gulped. This wasn't the first time Snape had given Harry the impression of being able to read minds. But a moment later, he understood, as Snape unrolled today's issue of the Evening Prophet.

"You were seen," he hissed, showing them the headline: FLYING FORD ANGLIA MYSTIFIES MUGGLES. He began to read aloud: "Two Muggles in London, convinced they saw an old car flying over the Post Office tower… at noon in Norfolk, Mrs. Hetty Bayliss, while hanging out her washing… Mr. Angus Fleet, of Peebles, reported to police… Six or seven Muggles in all. I believe your father works in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office?" he said, looking up at Ron and smiling still more nastily. "Dear, dear… his own son…"

Harry felt as though he'd just been walloped in the stomach by one of the mad tree's larger branches. He also carry the guilt about Angel. She didn't want to go with them but they force her to. If anyone found out Mr. Weasley had bewitched the car… he hadn't thought of that…

"I noticed, in my search of the park, that considerable damage seems to have been done to a very valuable Whomping Willow, and also hurting a student in the progress," Snape went on.

"That tree did more damage to us than we —" Ron blurted out.

"Silence!" snapped Snape again. "Most unfortunately, you are not in my House and the decision to expel you does not rest with me. I shall go and fetch the people who do have that happy power. You will wait here."

Harry and Ron stared at each other, white-faced. Harry didn't feel hungry any more. He now felt extremely sick. He tried not to look at a large, slimy something suspended in green liquid on a shelf behind Snape's desk. If Snape had gone to fetch Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor House, they were hardly any better off. She might be fairer than Snape, but she was still extremely strict.

Ten minutes later, Snape returned, and sure enough it was Professor McGonagall who accompanied him. Harry had seen Professor McGonagall angry on several occasions, but either he had forgotten just how thin her mouth could go, or he had never seen her this angry before. She raised her wand the moment she entered; Harry and Ron both flinched, but she merely pointed it at the empty fireplace, where flames suddenly erupted.

"Sit," she said, and they both backed into chairs by the fire.

"Explain," she said, her glasses glinting ominously.

Ron launched into the story, starting with the barrier, meeting Angel at the station and everything.

"— so we had no choice, Professor, we couldn't get on the train."

"Why didn't you wait for us to come? Angel send us a letter explaining everything and it came with your owl?" Professor McGonagall said coldly to Harry.

Harry gaped at her. Now she said it, that seemed the obvious thing Angel done.

"I — I didn't think —"

"That," said Professor McGonagall, "is obvious."

There was a knock on the office door and Snape, now looking happier than ever, opened it. There stood the headmaster, Professor Dumbledore.

Harry's whole body went numb. Dumbledore was looking unusually grave. He stared down his very crooked nose at them, and Harry suddenly found himself wishing he and Ron were still being beaten up by the Whomping Willow.

There was a long silence. Then Dumbledore said, "Please explain why you did this."

It would have been better if he had shouted. Harry hated the disappointment in his voice. For some reason, he was unable to look Dumbledore in the eyes, and spoke instead to his knees. He told Dumbledore everything except that Mr. Weasley owned the bewitched car, making it sound as though he and Ron had happened to find a flying car parked outside the station. He knew Dumbledore would see through this at once, but Dumbledore asked no questions about the car. When Harry had finished, he merely continued to peer at them through his spectacles.

"We'll go and get our stuff," said Ron in a hopeless sort of voice.

"What are you talking about, Weasley?" barked Professor McGonagall.

"Well, you're expelling us, aren't you?" said Ron.

Harry looked quickly at Dumbledore.

"Not today, Mr. Weasley," said Dumbledore. "But I must impress upon both of you the seriousness of what you have done. I will be writing to both your families tonight. I must also warn you that if you do anything like this again, I will have no choice but to expel you."

Snape looked as though Christmas had been canceled. He cleared his throat and said, "Professor Dumbledore, these boys have flouted the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry, caused serious damage to an old and valuable tree — surely acts of this nature — and also, they had harm a student."

"It will be for Professor McGonagall to decide on these boys' punishments, Severus," said Dumbledore calmly. "They are in her House and are therefore her responsibility." He turned to Professor McGonagall. "I must go back to the feast, Minerva, I've got to give out a few notices. Come, Severus, there's a delicious-looking custard tart I want to sample —"

Snape shot a look of pure venom at Harry and Ron as he allowed himself to be swept out of his office, leaving them alone with Professor McGonagall, who was still eyeing them like a wrathful eagle.

"You'd better get along to the hospital wing, Weasley, you're bleeding."

"Not much," said Ron, hastily wiping the cut over his eye with his sleeve. "Professor, I wanted to watch my sister being Sorted —"

"The Sorting Ceremony is over," said Professor McGonagall. "Your sister is also in Gryffindor."

"Oh, good," said Ron.

"And speaking of Gryffindor —" Professor McGonagall said sharply, but Harry cut in: "Professor, when we took the car, term hadn't started, so — so Gryffindor shouldn't really have points taken from it — should it?" he finished, watching her anxiously. "And what about Angel? Is she ok?"

"She's ok Potter but you two will receive two months of detention." Professor McGonagall reply.

It was better than Harry had expected. As for Dumbledore's writing to the Dursleys, that was nothing. Harry knew perfectly well they'd just be disappointed that the Whomping Willow hadn't squashed him flat.

Professor McGonagall raised her wand again and pointed it at Snape's desk. A large plate of sandwiches, two silver goblets, and a jug of iced pumpkin juice appeared with a pop.

"You will eat in here and then go straight up to your dormitory," she said. "I must also return to the feast."

Ron and Harry talked and agree that they should apologize to Angel the next time they see her. They also wonder what house she would be in. They both thought Gryffindor since she was brave.

When they had eaten as many sandwiches as they could (the plate kept refilling itself) they rose and left the office, treading the familiar path to Gryffindor Tower. The castle was quiet; it seemed that the feast was over. They walked past muttering portraits and creaking suits of armor, and climbed narrow flights of stone stairs, until at last they reached the passage where the secret entrance to Gryffindor Tower was hidden, behind an oil painting of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" she said as they approached.

"Er —" said Harry.

They didn't know the new year's password, not having met a Gryffindor prefect yet, but help came almost immediately; they heard hurrying feet behind them and turned to see Hermione dashing toward them.

"There you are! Where have you been? The most ridiculous rumors — someone said you'd been expelled for crashing a flying car! And also that a student was hurt!"

"Well, we haven't been expelled," Harry assured her.

"You're not telling me you did fly here? And that a student did get hurt?" said Hermione, sounding almost as severe as Professor McGonagall.

"Skip the lecture," said Ron impatiently, "and tell us the new password."

"It's 'wattlebird,'" said Hermione impatiently, "but that's not the point —"

Her words were cut short, however, as the portrait of the fat lady swung open and there was a sudden storm of clapping. It looked as though the whole of Gryffindor House was still awake, packed into the circular common room, standing on the lopsided tables and squashy armchairs, waiting for them to arrive. Arms reached through the portrait hole to pull Harry and Ron inside, leaving Hermione to scramble in after them.

"Brilliant!" yelled Lee Jordan. "Inspired! What an entrance! Flying a car right into the Whomping Willow, people'll be talking about that one for years —"

"Good for you," said a fifth year Harry had never spoken to; someone was patting him on the back as though he'd just won a marathon; Fred and George pushed their way to the front of the crowd and said together, "Why couldn't we've come in the car, eh?"

Ron was scarlet in the face, grinning embarrassedly, but Harry could see one person who didn't look happy at all. Percy was visible over the heads of some excited first years, and he seemed to be trying to get near enough to start telling them off. Harry nudged Ron in the ribs and nodded in Percy's direction. Ron got the point at once.

"Got to get upstairs — bit tired," he said, and the two of them started pushing their way toward the door on the other side of the room, which led to a spiral staircase and the dormitories.

"Night," Harry called back to Hermione, who was wearing a scowl just like Percy's.

They managed to get to the other side of the common room, still having their backs slapped, and gained the peace of the staircase. They hurried up it, right to the top, and at last reached the door of their old dormitory, which now had a sign on it saying SECOND YEARS. They entered the familiar, circular room, with its five four-posters hung with red velvet and its high, narrow windows. Their trunks had been brought up for them and stood at the ends of their beds.

Ron grinned guiltily at Harry.

"I know I shouldn't've enjoyed that or anything, but…"

The dormitory door flew open and in came the other second year Gryffindor boys, Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, and Neville Longbottom.

"Unbelievable!" beamed Seamus.

"Cool," said Dean.

"Amazing," said Neville, awestruck**.**

Harry couldn't help it. He grinned, too. Then he remember Angel. _I hope she's ok._

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**so? what did you think? ok please Review! i want to know that someone liked it and my hard work wasn't wasted. someone also told me that it should either be Harry/ Angel or Draco/ Angel so vote who you want it to be.**

**Harry/Angel: **

**Draco/Angel:**

**or a love triangle (Harry/Angel/Draco):**

**thanks and R&R! please**

**~moon**


	5. Chapter 5

**hi! im so happy. more people review this time. ok here's the votes so far.**

**harry/angel/draco: 3**

**harry/angel: 1**

**draco/angel: 0**

**looks like its a love triangle, but it won't show til later. so you can still vote. **

**Disclamer: you know what im going to say. enjoy!**

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**Gilderoy Lockhart**

The next day, however, Harry barely grinned once. Things started to go downhill from breakfast in the Great Hall. The four long house tables were laden with tureens of porridge, plates of kippers, mountains of toast, and dishes of eggs and bacon, beneath the enchanted ceiling (today, a dull, cloudy gray). Harry and Ron sat down at the Gryffindor table next to Hermione, who had her copy of Voyages with Vampires propped open against a milk jug. There was a slight stiffness in the way she said "Morning," which told Harry that she was still disapproving of the way they had arrived, and hating a follow student. Neville Longbottom, on the other hand, greeted them cheerfully. Neville was a round-faced and accident-prone boy with the worst memory of anyone Harry had ever met.

"Mail's due any minute — I think Gran's sending a few things I forgot."

Harry had only just started his porridge when, sure enough, there was a rushing sound overhead and a hundred or so owls streamed in, circling the hall and dropping letters and packages into the chattering crowd. A big, lumpy package bounced off Neville's head and, a second later, something large and gray fell into Hermione's jug, spraying them all with milk and feathers.

"Errol!" said Ron, pulling the bedraggled owl out by the feet. Errol slumped, Unconscious, onto the table, his legs in the air and a damp red envelope in his beak.

"Oh, no —" Ron gasped.

"It's all right, he's still alive," said Hermione, prodding Errol gently with the tip of her finger.

"It's not that — it's that."

Ron was pointing at the red envelope. It looked quite ordinary to Harry, but Ron and Neville were both looking at it as though they expected it to explode.

"What's the matter?" said Harry.

"She's — she's sent me a Howler," said Ron faintly.

"You'd better open it, Ron," said Neville in a timid whisper. "It'll be worse if you don't. My gran sent me one once, and I ignored it and" — he gulped —"it was horrible."

Harry looked from their petrified faces to the red envelope.

"What's a Howler?" he said.

But Ron's whole attention was fixed on the letter, which had begun to smoke at the corners.

"Open it," Neville urged. "It'll all be over in a few minutes—"

Ron stretched out a shaking hand, eased the envelope from Errol's beak, and slit it open. Neville stuffed his fingers in his ears. A split second later, Harry knew why. He thought for a moment it had exploded; a roar of sound filled the huge hall, shaking dust from the ceiling.

"—STEALING THE CAR, HURTING A STUDENT THAT YOU DRAG WITH YOU! I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY'D EXPELLED YOU, YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU, I DON'T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW IT WAS GONE —"

Mrs. Weasleys yells, a hundred times louder than usual, made the plates and spoons rattle on the table, and echoed deafeningly off the stone walls. People throughout the hall were swiveling around to see who had received the Howler, and Ron sank so low in his chair that only his crimson forehead could be seen.

"—LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU AND HARRY COULD BOTH HAVE DIED, THAT POOR GIRL COULD HAVE BEEN KILLED —"

Harry had been wondering when his name was going to crop up. He tried very hard to look as though he couldn't hear the voice that was making his eardrums throb.

"—ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED — YOUR FATHER'S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME."

A ringing silence fell. The red envelope, which had dropped from Ron's hand, burst into flames and curled into ashes. Harry and Ron sat stunned, as though a tidal wave had just passed over them. A few people laughed and, gradually, a babble of talk broke out again.

Hermione closed Voyages with Vampires and looked down at the top of Ron's head.

"Well, I don't know what you expected, Ron, but you —"

"Don't tell me I deserved it," snapped Ron.

Harry pushed his porridge away. His insides were burning with guilt. Mr. Weasley was facing an inquiry at work. After all Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had done for him over the summer…

But he had no time to dwell on this; Professor McGonagall was moving along the Gryffindor table, handing out course schedules. Harry took his and saw that they had double Herbology with the Hufflepuffs first.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione left the castle together, crossed the vegetable patch, and made for the greenhouses, where the magical plants were kept. At least the Howler had done one good thing:

Hermione seemed to think they had now been punished enough and was being perfectly friendly again.

As they neared the greenhouses they saw the rest of the class standing outside, waiting for Professor Sprout. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had only just joined them when she came striding into view across the lawn, accompanied by Gilderoy Lockhart. Professor Sprout's arms were full of bandages, and with another twinge of guilt, Harry spotted the Whomping Willow in the distance, several of its branches now in slings.

Professor Sprout was a squat little witch who wore a patched hat over her flyaway hair; there was usually a large amount of earth on her clothes and her fingernails would have made Aunt Petunia faint. Gilderoy Lockhart, however, was immaculate in sweeping robes of turquoise, his golden hair shining under a perfectly positioned turquoise hat with gold trimming.

He started to say something about working with Whomping Willows before or something like that.

"Greenhouse three today, chaps!" said Professor Sprout, who was looking distinctly disgruntled, not at all her usual cheerful self.

There was a murmur of interest. They had only ever worked in greenhouse one before — greenhouse three housed far more interesting and dangerous plants. Professor Sprout took a large key from her belt and unlocked the door. Harry caught a whiff of damp earth and fertilizer mingling with the heavy perfume of some giant, umbrella-sized flowers dangling from the ceiling. He was about to follow Ron and Hermione inside when Lockhart's hand shot out.

"Harry! I've been wanting a word — you don't mind if he's a couple of minutes late, do you, Professor Sprout?"

Judging by Professor Sprout's scowl, she did mind, but Lockhart said, "That's the ticket," and closed the greenhouse door in her face.

"Harry," said Lockhart, his large white teeth gleaming in the sunlight as he shook his head. "Harry, Harry, Harry."

Completely nonplussed, Harry said nothing.

"When I heard — well, of course, it was all my fault. Could have kicked myself."

Harry had no idea what he was talking about. He was about to say so when Lockhart went on, "Don't know when I've been more shocked. Flying a car to Hogwarts! Well, of course, I knew at once why you'd done it. Stood out a mile. Harry, Harry, Harry."

It was remarkable how he could show every one of those brilliant teeth even when he wasn't talking.

"Gave you a taste for publicity, didn't I?" said Lockhart. "Gave you the bug. You got onto the front page of the paper with me and you couldn't wait to do it again."

"Oh, no, Professor, see —"

"Harry, Harry, Harry," said Lockhart, reaching out and grasping his shoulder. "I understand. Natural to want a bit more once you've had that first taste — and I blame myself for giving you that, because it was bound to go to your head — but see here, young man, you can't start flying cars to try and get yourself noticed. Also thought that you could get a good review with that young lady did you? Just calm down, all right? Plenty of time for all that when you're older. Yes, yes, I know what you're thinking! 'It's all right for him, he's an internationally famous wizard already!' But when I was twelve, I was just as much of a nobody as you are now. In fact, I'd say I was even more of a nobody! I mean, a few people have heard of you, haven't they? All that business with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!" He glanced at the lightning scar on Harry's forehead. "I know, I know — it's not quite as good as winning Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award five times in a row, as I have — but it's a start, Harry, it's a start."

He gave Harry a hearty wink and strode off. Harry stood stunned for a few seconds, then, remembering he was supposed to be in the greenhouse, he opened the door and slid inside.

Professor Sprout was standing behind a trestle bench in the center of the greenhouse. About twenty pairs of different-colored ear muffs were lying on the bench. When Harry had taken his place between Ron and Hermione, she said, "We'll be repotting Mandrakes today. Now, who can tell me the properties of the Mandrake?"

To nobody's surprise, Hermione's hand was first into the air.

"Mandrake, or Mandragora, is a powerful restorative," said Hermione, sounding as usual as though she had swallowed the textbook.

"It is used to return people who have been transfigured or cursed to their original state."

"Excellent. Ten points to Gryffindor," said Professor Sprout. "The Mandrake forms an essential part of most antidotes. It is also, however, dangerous. Who can tell me why?"

Hermione's hand narrowly missed Harry's glasses as it shot up again.

"The cry of the Mandrake is fatal to anyone who hears it," she said promptly.

"Precisely. Take another ten points," said Professor Sprout. "Now, the Mandrakes we have here are still very young."

She pointed to a row of deep trays as she spoke, and everyone shuffled forward for a better look. A hundred or so tufty little plants, purplish green in color, were growing there in rows. They looked quite unremarkable to Harry, who didn't have the slightest idea what Hermione meant by

the "cry" of the Mandrake.

"Everyone take a pair of earmuffs," said Professor Sprout.

There was a scramble as everyone tried to seize a pair that wasn't pink and fluffy.

"When I tell you to put them on, make sure your ears are completely covered," said Professor Sprout. "When it is safe to remove them, I will give you the thumbs-up. Right — earmuffs on."

Harry snapped the earmuffs over his ears. They shut out sound completely. Professor Sprout put the pink, fluffy pair over her own ears, rolled up the sleeves of her robes, grasped one of the tufty plants firmly, and pulled hard.

Harry let out a gasp of surprise that no one could hear.

Instead of roots, a small, muddy, and extremely ugly baby popped out of the earth. The leaves were growing right out of his head. He had pale green, mottled skin, and was clearly bawling at the top of his lungs.

Professor Sprout took a large plant pot from under the table and plunged the Mandrake into it, burying him in dark, damp compost until only the tufted leaves were visible. Professor Sprout dusted off her hands, gave them all the thumbs-up, and removed her own earmuffs.

"As our Mandrakes are only seedlings, their cries won't kill yet," she said calmly as though she'd just done nothing more exciting than water a begonia. "However, they will knock you out for several hours, and as I'm sure none of you want to miss your first day back, make sure your earmuffs are securely in place while you work. I will attract your attention when it is time to pack up.

"Four to a tray — there is a large supply of pots here — compost in the sacks over there — and be careful of the Venemous Tentacula, it's teething."

She gave a sharp slap to a spiky, dark red plant as she spoke, making it draw in the long feelers that had been inching sneakily over her shoulder.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were joined at their tray by a curly-haired Hufflepuff boy Harry knew by sight but had never spoken to.

"Justin Finch-Fletchley," he said brightly, shaking Harry by the hand. "Know who you are, of course, the famous Harry Potter… And you're Hermione Granger — always top in everything" (Hermione beamed as she had her hand shaken too) "— and Ron Weasley. Wasn't that your flying car?"

Ron didn't smile. The Howler was obviously still on his mind.

"That Lockhart's something, isn't he?" said Justin happily as they began filling their plant pots with dragon dung compost. "Awfully brave chap. Have you read his books? I'd have died of fear if Id been cornered in a telephone booth by a werewolf, but he stayed cool and — zap — just fantastic.

"My name was down for Eton, you know. I can't tell you how glad I am I came here instead. Of course, Mother was slightly disappointed, but since I made her read Lockhart's books I think she's begun to see how useful it'll be to have a fully trained wizard in the family…"

After that they didn't have much chance to talk. Their earmuffs were back on and they needed to concentrate on the Mandrakes. Professor Sprout had made it look extremely easy, but it wasn't. The Mandrakes didn't like coming out of the earth, but didn't seem to want to go back into it either. They squirmed, kicked, flailed their sharp little fists, and gnashed their teeth; Harry spent ten whole minutes trying to squash a particularly fat one into a pot.

By the end of the class, Harry, like everyone else, was sweaty, aching, and covered in earth. Everyone traipsed back to the castle for a quick wash and then the Gryffindors hurried off to Transfiguration.

Professor McGonagall's classes were always hard work, but today was especially difficult. Everything Harry had learned last year seemed to have leaked out of his head during the summer. He was supposed to be turning a beetle into a button, but all he managed to do was give his beetle a lot of exercise as it scuttled over the desktop avoiding his wand.

Ron was having far worse problems. He had patched up his wand with some borrowed Spellotape, but it seemed to be damaged beyond repair. It kept crackling and sparking at odd moments, and every time Ron tried to transfigure his beetle it engulfed him in thick gray smoke that smelled of rotten eggs. Unable to see what he was doing, Ron accidentally squashed his beetle with his elbow and had to ask for a new one. Professor McGonagall wasn't pleased.

Harry was relieved to hear the lunch bell. His brain felt like a wrung sponge. Everyone filed out of the classroom except him and Ron, who was whacking his wand furiously on the desk.

"Stupid — useless — thing —"

"Write home for another one," Harry suggested as the wand let off a volley of bangs like a firecracker.

"Oh, yeah, and get another Howler back," said Ron, stuffing the now hissing wand into his bag.

"'It's your own fault your wand got snapped — '"

They went down to lunch, where Ron's mood was not improved by Hermione's showing them the handful of perfect coat buttons she had produced in Transfiguration.

"What've we got this afternoon?" said Harry, hastily changing the subject.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione at once.

"Why," demanded Ron, seizing her schedule, "have you outlined all Lockhart's lessons in little hearts?"

Hermione snatched the schedule back, blushing furiously.

They finished lunch and went outside into the overcast courtyard. Hermione sat down on a stone step and buried her nose in Voyages with Vampires again. Harry and Ron stood talking about Quidditch for several minutes before Harry became aware that he was being closely watched. Looking up, he saw the very small, mousy-haired boy he'd seen trying on the Sorting Hat last night staring at Harry as though transfixed. He was clutching what looked like an ordinary Muggle camera, and the moment Harry looked at him, he went bright red.

"All right, Harry? I'm — I'm Colin Creevey," he said breathlessly, taking a tentative step forward. "I'm in Gryffindor, too. D'you think — would it be all right if — can I have a picture?" he said, raising the camera hopefully.

"A picture?" Harry repeated blankly.

"So I can prove I've met you," said Colin Creevey eagerly, edging further forward. "I know all about you. Everyone's told me. About how you survived when You-Know-Who tried to kill you and how he disappeared and everything and how you've still got a lightning scar on your forehead" (his eyes raked Harry's hairline) "and a boy in my dormitory said if I develop the film in the right potion, the pictures'll move." Colin drew a great shuddering breath of excitement and said, "It's amazing here, isn't it? I never knew all the odd stuff I could do was magic till I got the letter from Hogwarts. My dad's a milkman, he couldn't believe it either. So I'm taking loads of pictures to send home to him. And it'd be really good if I had one of you" — he looked imploringly at Harry — "maybe your friend could take it and I could stand next to you? And then, could you sign it?"

"Signed photos? You're giving out signed photos, Potter?"

Loud and scathing, Draco Malfoy's voice echoed around the courtyard. He had stopped right behind Colin, flanked, as he always was at Hogwarts, by his large and thuggish cronies, Crabbe and Goyle.

"Everyone line up!" Malfoy roared to the crowd. "Harry Potter's giving out signed photos!"

"Dray? Who should anyone line up for that person?" said a voice from the crowd. The owner of the voice came up and stand next to Malfoy. Harry blink in surprise and nudged Ron who also blink in surprise. It was Angel. "All he does is cause trouble."

Malfoy smirk and play along. "True but I should thank him for bringing you here, but I won't" his smirk vanish when Angel threw him a glare. "Forgive me Dev, I forgot they almost got you kill."

"No, I'm didn't," said Harry angrily, his fists clenching. "Shut up, Malfoy."

"I got a good idea, why don't you shut up?" said Angel kind of darkly. Harry blinked in surprise. Why is Angel talking to him like this?

"You're just jealous," piped up Colin, whose entire body was about as thick as Crabbe's neck.

"Jealous?" said Malfoy, who didn't need to shout anymore: half the courtyard was listening in. "Of what? I don't want a foul scar right across my head, thanks. I don't think getting your head cut open makes you that special, myself."

Crabbe and Goyle were sniggering stupidly.

"Eat slugs, Malfoy," said Ron angrily. Crabbe stopped laughing and started rubbing his knuckles in a menacing way.

"Be careful, Weasley," sneered Malfoy. "You don't want to start any trouble or your Mommy'll have to come and take you away from school." He put on a shrill, piercing voice. "'If you put another toe out of line'—"

A knot of Slytherin fifth-years nearby laughed loudly at this. Angel also laughed quietly.

"Weasley would like a signed photo, Potter," smirked Malfoy. "It'd be worth more than his family's whole house —"

"So true Dray, I don't know how they survive for so long," said Angel, her eyes were flashing red for some reason.

"What's wrong with you? You weren't like this before! Why are you hanging out with him?" shouted Ron, while pointing at Malfoy.

"Can't I hang with my own house?" said Angel, and the trio notice that her clothes represented Slytherin. "Also, I don't want to hang with some brats who almost got me killed"

Ron whipped out his Spellotaped wand, but Hermione shut Voyages with Vampires with a snap and whispered, "Look out!"

Soon Lockhart came and made Colin take a double picture with Harry and him. Harry could see that Angel and Malfoy smirking at him. Lockhart started to say something about that taking pictures was a big step and almost drag Harry with him.

They had reached Lockhart's classroom and he let Harry go at last. Harry yanked his robes straight and headed for a seat at the very back of the class, where he busied himself with piling all seven of Lockhart's books in front of him, so that he could avoid looking at the real thing.

The rest of the class came clattering in, and Ron and Hermione sat down on either side of Harry.

"You could've fried an egg on your face" said Ron. "You'd better hope Creevey doesn't meet Ginny, or they'll be starting a Harry Potter fan club."

"Shut up," snapped Harry. The last thing he needed was for Lockhart to hear the phrase "Harry Potter fan club"

When the whole class was seated, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly and silence fell. He reached forward, picked up Neville Longbottom's copy of Travels with Trolls, and held it up to show his own, winking portrait on the front.

"Me," he said, pointing at it and winking as well. "Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!"

He waited for them to laugh; a few people smiled weakly.

"I see you've all bought a complete set of my books — well done. I thought we'd start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about — just to check how well you've read them, how much you've taken in —"

When he had handed out the test papers he returned to the front of the class and said, "You have thirty minutes — start —now!"

Harry looked down at his paper and read:

1. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?

2. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?

3. What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date?

On and on it went, over three sides of paper, right down to:

54. When is Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday, and what would his ideal gift be?

Half an hour later, Lockhart collected the papers and rifled through them in front of the class.

"Tut, tut — hardly any of you remembered that my favorite color is lilac. I say so in Year with the Yeti. And a few of you need to read Wanderings with Werewolves more carefully — I clearly state in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples — though I wouldn't say no to a large bottle of Ogdeds Old Firewhisky!"

He gave them another roguish wink. Ron was now staring at Lockhart with an expression of disbelief on his face; Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, who were sitting in front, were shaking with silent laughter. Hermione, on the other hand, was listening to Lockhart with rapt attention and gave a start when he mentioned her name.

"… but Miss Hermione Granger knew my secret ambition is to rid the world of evil and market my own range of hair-care potions — good girl! In fact" — he flipped her paper over — "full marks! Where is Miss Hermione Granger?"

Hermione raised a trembling hand.

"Excellent!" beamed Lockhart. "Quite excellent! Take ten points for Gryffindor! And so — to business —"

He bent down behind his desk and lifted a large, covered cage onto it.

"Now — be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm."

In spite of himself, Harry leaned around his pile of books for a better look at the cage. Lockhart placed a hand on the cover. Dean and Seamus had stopped laughing now. Neville was cowering in his front row seat.

"I must ask you not to scream," said Lockhart in a low voice. "It might provoke them."

As the whole class held its breath, Lockhart whipped off the cover

"Yes," he said dramatically. "Freshly caught Cornish pixies."

Seamus Finnigan couldn't control himself. He let out a snort of laughter that even Lockhart couldn't mistake for a scream of terror.

"Yes?" He smiled at Seamus.

"Well, they're not — they're not very —dangerous, are they?" Seamus choked.

"Don't be so sure!" said Lockhart, waggling a finger annoyingly at Seamus. "Devilish tricky little blighters they can be!"

The pixies were electric blue and about eight inches high, with pointed faces and voices so shrill it was like listening to a lot of budgies arguing. The moment the cover had been removed, they had started jabbering and rocketing around, rattling the bars and making bizarre faces at the people nearest them.

"Right, then," Lockhart said loudly. "Let's see what you make of them!" And he opened the cage.

It was pandemonium. The pixies shot in every direction like rockets. Two of them seized Neville by the ears and lifted him into the air.

Several shot straight through the window, showering the back row with broken glass. The rest proceeded to wreck the classroom more effectively than a rampaging rhino. They grabbed ink bottles and sprayed the class with them, shredded books and papers, tore pictures from the walls, up-ended the waste basket, grabbed bags and books and threw them out of the smashed window; within minutes, half the class was sheltering under desks and Neville was swinging from the iron chandelier in the ceiling.

"Come on now — round them up, round them up, they're only pixies," Lockhart shouted. He rolled up his sleeves, brandished his wand, and bellowed, "Peskipiksi Pesternomi!"

It had absolutely no effect; one of the pixies seized his wand and threw it out of the window, too. Lockhart gulped and dived under his own desk, narrowly avoiding being squashed by Neville, who fell a second later as the chandelier gave way.

The bell rang and there was a mad rush toward the exit. In the relative calm that followed, Lockhart straightened up, caught sight of Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who were almost at the door, and said, "Well, I'll ask you three to just nip the rest of them back into their cage." He swept past them and shut the door quickly behind him.

"Can you believe him?" roared Ron as one of the remaining pixies bit him painfully on the ear.

"He just wants to give us some hands-on experience," said Hermione, immobilizing two pixies at once with a clever Freezing Charm and stuffing them back into their cage.

"Hands on?" said Harry, who was trying to grab a pixie dancing out of reach with its tongue out. "Hermione, he didn't have a clue what he was doing —"

"Rubbish," said Hermione. "You've read his books — look at all those amazing things he's done —"

"He says he's done," Ron muttered. "I still can't believe that Angel got sorted into Slytherin. She seem nice when we first meet."

"I can't blame her for being mad at you two but I bet you two didn't notice her eyes, did you?" said Hermione. She sighed when they both shook their heads. "Her eyes where full of sadness. All of those things she said was an act to make sure that nobody notice her sadness."

"What about that flash of red in her eyes?" Harry asked.

Hermione shrugged, they had finish getting all the pixies into the cage. "I read that some wizard families are so old that they have very old kind of magic." said Hermione. Harry and Ron both looked at her. They still don't understand what this has to do with Angel. "Angel must be from a wizard family who's emotions can be shown in their appearance. Like their eyes for example, they can have two main eye colors. Lets take Angel's eye color. Brown must be for clam, sad, and happy. Red is anger, mischief, and madness."

"Ok, I think I get it," said Ron. "Ok, maybe not."

Harry was silent, he was thinking about the first time he met Angel and how she smiled sadly. Then he remember something. "Hey, didn't Malfoy call Angel Dev?"

Hermione and Ron both nodded. "I wonder what he means by that?"

Harry also wonder. Maybe this is a good mystery to solve. Hopefully Angel would forgive them.

Angel smiled. "They're smarter then I thought they were." She was listening to them from outside the door. "This might be a fun year."

"Dev? Come on, we need to get to our next class," Malfoy came around the corner.

"Sorry Dray, but I need to go to Madam Pomfrey for her to check my injuries," said Angel. Draco smiled and nodded.

"K, see you at lunch," Draco left and Angel smiled sadly.

"I wish I didn't have to stop that plot and enjoy this school year," Angel's eyes flash red and she started to laugh softly. "O how I wish I could live peacefully, but I'm who I am. Looks like Devil's Child wants to play this year."

Angel started to head towards the hospital wing. Still laughing softly.

* * *

**k here's some answers to some possible questions.**

**Dracos nickname for Angel is Dev. the rest, ill leave for you to guess. srry, cant ruin all the surprises.**

**also please review! thanks! remember, reviews make me happy!**

**in the next chapter: Somehow Draco join the house team, also it seems Angel is also joining. harry is hearing voices. also Harry hears Angel talking to someone, but who? till then!**

**~moon**


	6. Chapter 6

**HIHI! okay, it's seems that it's going to be a love triangle. but you can decide who's going to end up with Angel or if she going to be only friends with them. Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: do i even have to say it?**

* * *

Mudbloods and Murmurs

Harry spent a lot of time over the next few days dodging out of sight whenever he saw Gilderoy Lockhart coming down a corridor. Harder to avoid was Colin Creevey, who seemed to have memorized Harry's schedule.

Nothing seemed to give Colin a bigger thrill than to say, "All right, Harry?" six or seven times a day and hear, "Hello, Colin," back, however exasperated Harry sounded when he said it.

Ron's wand was still malfunctioning, surpassing itself on Friday morning by shooting out of Ron's hand in Charms and hitting tiny old Professor Flitwick squarely between the eyes, creating a large, throbbing green boil where it had struck. He still trying to figure out how Angel got sorted into Slytherin. So with one thing and another, Harry was quite glad to reach the weekend. He, Ron, and Hermione were planning to visit Hagrid on Saturday morning. Harry, however, was shaken awake several hours earlier than he would have liked by Oliver Wood, Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

"Whassamatter?" said Harry groggily.

"Quidditch practice!" said Wood. "Come on!"

Harry squinted at the window. There was a thin mist hanging across the pink-and-gold sky. Now that he was awake, he couldn't understand how he could have slept through the racket the birds were making.

"Oliver," Harry croaked. "It's the crack of dawn."

"Exactly," said Wood. He was a tall and burly sixth year and, at the moment, his eyes were gleaming with a crazed enthusiasm. "It's part of our new training program. Come on, grab your broom, and let's go," said Wood heartily. "None of the other teams have started training yet; we're going to be first off the mark this year —"

Yawning and shivering slightly, Harry climbed out of bed and tried to find his Quidditch robes.

"Good man," said Wood. "Meet you on the field in fifteen minutes."

When he'd found his scarlet team robes and pulled on his cloak for warmth, Harry scribbled a note to Ron explaining where he'd gone and went down the spiral staircase to the common room, his Nimbus Two Thousand on his shoulder. He had just reached the portrait hole when there was a clatter behind him and Colin Creevey came dashing down the spiral staircase, his camera swinging madly around his neck and something clutched in his hand.

Harry tried to convince him that he needed to go but somehow ended up with him follow him to practice. Colin didn't stop questioning Harry all the way down the sloping lawns to the Quidditch field, and Harry only shook him off when he reached the changing rooms; Colin called after him in a piping voice, "I'll go and get a good seat, Harry!" and hurried off to the stands.

The rest of the Gryffindor team were already in the changing room. Wood was the only person who looked truly awake. Fred and George Weasley were sitting, puffy-eyed and tousle haired, next to fourth year Alicia Spinnet, who seemed to be nodding off against the wall behind her. Her fellow Chasers, Katie Bell and Angelina Johnson, were yawning side by side opposite them.

"There you are, Harry, what kept you?" said Wood briskly. "Now, I wanted a quick talk with you all before we actually get onto the field, because I spent the summer devising a whole new training program, which I really think will make all the difference…"

Wood was holding up a large diagram of a Quidditch field, on which were drawn many lines, arrows, and crosses in different colored inks. He took out his wand, tapped the board, and the arrows began to wiggle over the diagram like caterpillars. As Wood launched into a speech about his new tactics, Fred Weasley's head drooped right onto Alicia Spinnet's shoulder and he began to snore.

The first board took nearly twenty minutes to explain, but there was another board under that, and a third under that one. Harry sank into a stupor as Wood droned on and on.

"So," said Wood, at long last, jerking Harry from a wistful fantasy about what he could be eating for breakfast at this very moment up at the castle. "Is that clear? Any questions?"

"I've got a question, Oliver," said George, who had woken with a start. "Why couldn't you have told us all this yesterday when we were awake?"

Wood wasn't pleased.

"Now, listen here, you lot," he said, glowering at them all. "We should have won the Quidditch cup last year. We're easily the best team. But unfortunately — owing to circumstances beyond our control —"

Harry shifted guiltily in his seat. He had been unconscious in the hospital wing for the final match of the previous year, meaning that Gryffindor had been a player short and had suffered their worst defeat in three hundred years.

Wood took a moment to regain control of himself. Their last defeat was clearly still torturing him.

"So this year, we train harder than ever before… Okay, let's go and put our new theories into practice!" Wood shouted, seizing his broomstick and leading the way out of the locker rooms. Stiff-legged and still yawning, his team followed.

They had been in the locker room so long that the sun was up completely now, although remnants of mist hung over the grass in the stadium. As Harry walked onto the field, he saw Ron and Hermione sitting in the stands.

"Aren't you finished yet?" called Ron incredulously.

"Haven't even started," said Harry, looking jealously at the toast and marmalade Ron and Hermione had brought out of the Great Hall. "Wood's been teaching us new moves."

He mounted his broomstick and kicked at the ground, soaring up into the air. The cool morning air whipped his face, waking him far more effectively than Wood's long talk. It felt wonderful to be back on the Quidditch field. He soared right around the stadium at full speed, racing Fred and George.

"What's that funny clicking noise?" called Fred as they hurtled around the corner.

Harry looked into the stands. Colin was sitting in one of the highest seats, his camera raised, taking picture after picture, the sound strangely magnified in the deserted stadium.

"Look this way, Harry! This way!" he cried shrilly.

"Who's that?" said Fred.

"No idea," Harry lied, putting on a spurt of speed that took him as far away as possible from Colin.

"What's going on?" said Wood, frowning, as he skimmed through the air toward them. "Why's that first year taking pictures? I don't like it. He could be a Slytherin spy, trying to find out about our new training program."

"He's in Gryffindor," said Harry quickly.

"And the Slytherins don't need a spy, Oliver," said George.

"What makes you say that?" said Wood testily.

"Because they're here in person," said George, pointing.

Several people in green robes were walking onto the field, broomsticks in their hands.

"I don't believe it!" Wood hissed in outrage. "I booked the field for today! We'll see about this!"

Wood shot toward the ground, landing rather harder than he meant to in his anger, staggering slightly as he dismounted. Harry, Fred, and George followed.

"Flint!" Wood bellowed at the Slytherin Captain. "This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!"

Marcus Flint was even larger than Wood. He had a look of trollish cunning on his face as he replied, "Plenty of room for all of us, Wood."

Angelina, Alicia, and Katie had come over, too. There were no girls on the Slytherin team, who stood shoulder to shoulder, facing the Gryffindors, leering to a man.

"But I booked the field!" said Wood, positively spitting with rage. "I booked it!"

"Ah," said Flint. "But I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. 'I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker and Chaser'. "

"You've got a new Seeker and Chaser?" said Wood, distracted. "Where are they?"

And from behind the five large figures before them came two, smaller people, one smirking all over his pale, pointed face. It was Draco Malfoy and Angel.

"Aren't you Lucius Malfoy's son?" said Fred, looking at Malfoy with dislike, then turn to Angel. "And who are you?"

"Angel, you must be the weak Gryffindor team," said Angel with a bored look.

"Funny you should mention Draco's father and good one Dev," said Flint as the whole Slytherin team smiled still more broadly. "Let me show you the generous gift he's made to the Slytherin team."

All seven of them held out their broomsticks, while more like six since Angel just lend on it. Seven highly polished, brand-new handles and seven sets of fine gold lettering spelling the words Nimbus Two Thousand and One gleamed under the Gryffindors' noses in the early morning sun.

"Very latest model. Only came out last month," said Flint carelessly, flicking a speck of dust from the end of his own. "I believe it outstrips the old Two Thousand series by a considerable amount. As for the old Cleansweeps" — he smiled nastily at Fred and George, who were both clutching Cleansweep Fives —" sweeps the board with them."

None of the Gryffindor team could think of anything to say for a moment. Malfoy was smirking so broadly his cold eyes were reduced to slits. Angel just looked at nails, checking for dirt under them.

"Oh, look," said Flint. "A field invasion."

Ron and Hermione were crossing the grass to see what was going on.

"What's happening?" Ron asked Harry. "Why aren't you playing? And what are they doing here?"

He was looking at Malfoy then at Angel, taking in their Slytherin Quidditch robes.

"I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley. Dev is the new Chaser," said Malfoy, smugly. "Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team."

Ron gaped, open-mouthed, at the seven superb broomsticks in front of him.

"Good, aren't they?" said Malfoy smoothly. "But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives; I expect a museum would bid for them."

The Slytherin team howled with laughter, excepted Angel.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," said Hermione sharply. "They got in on pure talent."

The smug look on Malfoy's face flickered.

"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood," he spat.

Harry knew at once that Malfoy had said something really bad because there was an instant uproar at his words. Angel finally looked up and turns towards Malfoy. Flint had to dive in front of Malfoy to stop Fred and George jumping on him, Alicia shrieked, "How dare you!" and Ron plunged his hand into his robes, pulled out his wand, yelling, "You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!" and pointed it furiously under Flint's arm at Malfoys face.

A loud bang echoed around the stadium and a jet of green light shot out of the wrong end of Ron's wand, hitting him in the stomach and sending him reeling backward onto the grass.

"Ron! Ron! Are you all right?" squealed Hermione.

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead he gave an almighty belch and several slugs dribbled out of his mouth onto his lap.

The Slytherin team were paralyzed with laughter. Flint was doubled up, hanging onto his new broomstick for support. Malfoy was on all fours, banging the ground with his fist. Angel was laughing also, and trying to clam Malfoy down. The Gryffindors were gathered around Ron, who kept belching large, glistening slugs. Nobody seemed to want to touch him.

Harry and Hermione took Ron to Hagrid who give him a large copper basin to throw up in. they explain to him that Ron was trying to curse Malfoy because he called Hermione a Mudblood. Hagrid then decide to show them something, and lead them outside.

In the small vegetable patch behind Hagrid's house were a dozen of the largest pumpkins Harry had ever seen. Each was the size of a large boulder.

"Gettin' on well, aren't they?" said Hagrid happily. "Fer the Halloween feast… should be big enough by then."

"What've you been feeding them?" said Harry.

Hagrid looked over his shoulder to check that they were alone.

"Well, I've bin givin' them — you know — a bit o' help —"

Harry noticed Hagrid's flowery pink umbrella leaning against the back wall of the cabin. Harry had had reason to believe before now that this umbrella was not all it looked; in fact, he had the strong impression that Hagrid's old school wand was concealed inside it. Hagrid wasn't supposed to use magic. He had been expelled from Hogwarts in his third year, but Harry had never found out why — any mention of the matter and Hagrid would clear his throat loudly and become mysteriously deaf until the subject was changed.

"An Engorgement Charm, I suppose?" said Hermione, halfway between disapproval and amusement. "Well, you've done a good job on them."

"That's what yer little sister said," said Hagrid, nodding at Ron. "Met her jus' yesterday." Hagrid looked sideways at Harry, his beard twitching. "Said she was jus' lookin' round the grounds, but I reckon she was hopin' she might run inter someone else at my house." He winked at Harry. "If yeh ask me, she wouldn' say no ter a signed —"

"Oh, shut up," said Harry. Ron snorted with laughter and the ground was sprayed with slugs.

"Watch it!" Hagrid roared, pulling Ron away from his precious pumpkins.

It was nearly lunchtime and as Harry had only had one bit of treacle fudge since dawn, he was keen to go back to school to eat. They said good-bye to Hagrid and walked back up to the castle, Ron hiccoughing occasionally, but only bringing up two very small slugs.

They had barely set foot in the cool entrance hall when a voice rang out, "There you are, Potter — Weasley." Professor McGonagall was walking toward them, looking stern. "You will both do your detentions this evening."

"What're we doing, Professor?" said Ron, nervously suppressing a burp.

"You will be polishing the silver in the trophy room with Mr. Filch," said Professor McGonagall. "And no magic, Weasley — elbow grease."

Ron gulped. Argus Filch, the caretaker, was loathed by every student in the school.

"And you, Potter, will be helping Professor Lockhart answer his fan mail," said Professor McGonagall.

"Oh n — Professor, can't I go and do the trophy room, too?" said Harry desperately.

"Certainly not," said Professor McGonagall, raising her eyebrows. "Professor Lockhart requested you particularly. Eight o'clock sharp, both of you."

Harry and Ron slouched into the Great Hall in states of deepest gloom, Hermione behind them, wearing a well-you-did-break-school-rules sort of expression. Harry didn't enjoy his shepherd's pie as much as he'd thought. Both he and Ron felt they'd got the worse deal.

"Filch'll have me there all night," said Ron heavily. "No magic! There must be about a hundred cups in that room. I'm no good at Muggle cleaning."

"I'd swap anytime," said Harry hollowly. "I've had loads of practice with the Dursleys. Answering Lockhart's fan mail… he'll be a nightmare…"

Saturday afternoon seemed to melt away, and in what seemed like no time, it was five minutes to eight, and Harry was dragging his feet along the second-floor corridor to Lockhart's office. But not before running into Angel.

"Angel!" Harry called out to her.

Angel turned around and tilted her head to him. "What is it Potter?"

Harry looked around before grabbing Angel and dragging her to an empty classroom. Angel protest to him about it. "Why are you so mean to us?"

"Why? Did you forget that you nearly got me killed!" said Angel not very happy.

Harry didn't looked at her in the eye. "Can you at least answer this question? Why are you in Slytherin?"

Angel looked at him carefully before answering. "I don't know, ask the sorting hat." Angel left the room, leaving Harry all alone. He sighed and went towards Lockhart's office. He gritted his teeth and knocked.

The door flew open at once. Lockhart beamed down at him.

"Ah, here's the scalawag!" he said.

"Come in, Harry, come in —"

Shining brightly on the walls by the light of many candles were countless framed photographs of Lockhart. He had even signed a few of them. Another large pile lay on his desk.

"You can address the envelopes!" Lockhart told Harry, as though this was a huge treat.

"This first one's to Gladys Gudgeon, bless her — huge fan of mine —"

The minutes snailed by. Harry let Lockhart's voice wash over him, occasionally saying, "Mmm" and "Right" and "Yeah." Now and then he caught a phrase like, "Fame's a fickle friend, Harry," or "Celebrity is as celebrity does, remember that."

The candles burned lower and lower, making the light dance over the many moving faces of Lockhart watching him. Harry moved his aching hand over what felt like the thousandth envelope, writing out Veronica Smethley's address. It must be nearly time to leave, Harry thought miserably, please let it be nearly time…

And then he heard something — something quite apart from the spitting of the dying candles and Lockhart's prattle about his fans.

It was a voice, a voice to chill the bone marrow, a voice of breathtaking, ice-cold venom.

"Come… come to me… Let me rip you.. .Let me tear you.. .Let me kill you…"

Harry gave a huge jump and a large lilac blot appeared on Veronica Smethley's street.

"What?" he said loudly.

"I know!" said Lockhart. "Six solid months at the top of the best-seller list! Broke all records!"

"No," said Harry frantically. "That voice!"

"Sorry?" said Lockhart, looking puzzled. "What voice?"

"That — that voice that said — didn't you hear it?"

Lockhart was looking at Harry in high astonishment.

"What are you talking about, Harry? Perhaps you're getting a little drowsy? Great Scott — look at the time! We've been here nearly four hours! I'd never have believed it — the time's flown, hasn't it?"

Harry didn't answer. He was straining his ears to hear the voice again, but there was no sound now except for Lockhart telling him he mustn't expect a treat like this every time he got detention. Feeling dazed, Harry left.

As he walk towards the Gryffindor common room, Harry heard Angel's voice from one of the empty classrooms. He stop to listen.

"Why me? …. fine, but you so owe me …. Ok," the door started to open and Harry ran and hid in a corner, watching. Soon, Angel came out, she drag herself down the stairs. As soon as she was gone, Harry went to where Angel was and saw that it was empty. _Who was she talking to?_ Harry thought and decide to go to the common room.

It was so late that the Gryffindor common room was almost empty. Harry went straight up to the dormitory. Ron wasn't back yet. Harry pulled on his pajamas, got into bed, and waited. Half an hour later, Ron arrived, nursing his right arm and bringing a strong smell of polish into the darkened room.

"My muscles have all seized up," he groaned, sinking on his bed. "Fourteen times he made me buff up that Quidditch cup before he was satisfied. And then I had another slug attack all over a Special Award for Services to the School. Took ages to get the slime off… How was it with Lockhart?"

Keeping his voice low so as not to wake Neville, Dean, and Seamus, Harry told Ron exactly what he had heard and what Angel was doing.

"And Lockhart said he couldn't hear it?" said Ron. Harry could see him frowning in the moonlight. "D'you think he was lying? But I don't get it — even someone invisible would've had to open the door. What was Angel doing anyway?"

"I don't know," said Harry, lying back in his four-poster and staring at the canopy above him. "I don't get it either."

* * *

**ok, so what did you think about Angel being the new Chaser for Slytherin? ok i got a question.**

**who do you think Devil's child is, by that i mean who is it and what do you think her job is? i want to see if someone can guess or gets close to the right answer. i know i didn't write much about Devil's Child but i want to see what you think she does. thanks!**

**i've been busy these couple of days and i love reviews, it brings me to a happy mood. ok so R&R please? **

**~moon**


	7. Chapter 7

**NOTE: ok, i rewrote this because i felt that i didn't do a good job and i'm rewriting the next three chapters, and i hope i continue updating now till the new year, mostly because school is hell and they will leave me with piles of homework, so enjoy!**

**ok, this is on Angel pov, not Harry. since Angel plays a part in the story, i thought that i should write a chapter on her veiw of the day. might not be good but o well. warning, Draco and Flint might be a bit oc, o who am i kidding, Draco is oc. just don't say i didn't warn you.**

**Disclaimer: i don'town anything, except Angel**

* * *

**Not my day**

Angel woke up in fear again. Once she realize where she was she relax a bit. She just couldn't get that nightmare to leave her alone. The nightmares seem to get worse every week or so.

_Hope they end sooner or later. I don't know how much longer I an take these nightmares. _

Angel got out of bed and started to get ready for the day. As soon as she got the knots out of her hair, she went down to the common room. She sat in front of the fireplace and sighed. Since it was Saturday, many Slytherins were sleeping in late. Angel didn't really mind though, she gets some time alone to think about things.

After some time, she heard some noises coming from the boys dormitory. Angel had a feeling she knew who it was. She smirked when she saw that she was right. There stood Draco in front of her.

"Hey Dev, guess what," said Draco, he had a small smile on his face. "I got into the Quidditch team."

"Nice Dray," replied Angel with a smile. She know how much Draco wanted to be on the Quidditch team. He has been talking about it as soon as they became friends. She laughed a small laugh when she remember how they meet.

* * *

Angel woke up and saw darkness around her. She try to sit up but drop back down, wincing a bit as the pain travel through her body. Once the pain was gone, Angel took in her surroundings.

After a minute or so, she remember what happen the night before. Angel groan in frustration at Harry and Ron, because of them, she stuck in what she think is the hospital wing. Angel frown, she didn't like being stuck in any kind of hospital building, even if it was for her well being. To many bad memories. Angel looked around again and sighed. It was nighttime, about three in the morning, she guessed by looking at the height of the moon. She closed her eyes and tried to get some sleep but couldn't, the faint memories of her last stay in a hospital playing through her mind.

* * *

Angel was bore as hell, it was almost six now. She was watching the sunrise and started to hum a bit before Professor McGonagall came with Professor Dumbledore. They had a look of relief after they saw that she was okay.

"Good morning Miss. Colfer. How are you feeling?" Professor Dumbledore asked.

"I feel like I just got out of a fight I had to break up back home," said Angel, rolling her eyes. She can still remember how her friends always ended up fighting whenever they visit each other, and instead of them getting hurt, it was her.

Professor Dumbledore chuckled before calling Madam Pomfrey to check on Angel. As she check her, she give the ok for Angel to leave after she ate. Angel gave a sigh of relief, she couldn't wait to get out of here.

"Miss. Colfer, since you missed the sorting, you'll have to do it right now," said Professor McGonagall, taking the Sorting Hat from somewhere. Angel nodded, knowing it has to be done now or never. The Sorting Hat was soon placed on her head, covering her eyes.

_**Ah, now you are different then the others I sorted before. You have the knowledge for Ravenclaw , the bravery for Gryffindor, and the greatness for Slytherin. Now where to put you?**_

_I don't know, why don't I let you see more of my past?_

_**Now that is useful, such a sad past, I know! **_**"Slytherin!"**

Both professors were surprise at Angel's house but quickly shook it off and took the hat from her.

"I'll bring a student from your house to show you around since Professor Snape is busy preparing for his lesson," Professor McGonagall said before leaving Angel alone again. Angel really didn't care, she just sat there, quietly eating her breakfast. Professor Dumbledore had already left a while ago with that creepy twinkle in his eyes.

Ten minutes had pass, giving her just enough time to finish eating, when Professor McGonagall came in with a blond boy. "Miss. Colfer, this is Draco Malfoy. Malfoy, this is Angelina Colfer, she is in your house, please show her classes for today."

Professor McGonagall handed Angel her timetable and left. Leaving them alone. Draco sighed and turned to her and sneer. "Hurry up and lets get your stuff."

He couldn't believe this. He was hanging out with his friends when Professor McGonagall came up behind him and order him to follow her. Now, he's a stupid guide to some newbie.

"Fine, just stop with that altitude, it's annoying," Angel said, she was already dress in her Slytherin clothes before they came in here and Madam Pomfrey was kind enough to give Angel her bag, with all of her stuff already inside.

Draco pretended that she didn't say anything, still mad, and started to walk towards the exit. "Come on Angelina."

Quicker then he could think, Draco found himself on the floor, holding the back of his head. Angel was behind him, holding out her hand. "If you know what's good for you, don't call me Angelina again, call me Angel and that's all."

Draco nodded quickly, mostly because he was scare of her eyes, they were … emotionless. Soon Angel shook her head and looked at Draco. "Um, did I hit you?"

Draco looked at her in disbelief, it seemed like she was someone else. Who is this good and what's going on? "It's nothing, come on, we'll be later for class."

Draco and Angel were now in the common room. Class had ended and Draco was already bored to death. There's nothing to do! Angel had to follow him because she still had to learn where the common room was and the password to get in. Speaking of the girl, she was doing her homework so she had the week off. Draco groan a bit, it's the first day of school and the teachers already left them a bunch of homework that is due next week. After a while, Angel left to the girl's dormitory to take her stuff up, now finish with whatever homework they had to do. Draco glance towards the sit she occupied and notice that she had forgotten a book. He glance around, stopping a bit at the girl's dormitory before getting up and walking towards it. He gently pick it up and study it carefully. The book was blood red and had some kind of writing, that he couldn't read, in black.

Draco open the book and a piece of paper fell towards the floor. Draco bent down and pick up the paper. He looked on both sides before reading it

_Dev!, _

_Why did you have to switch schools? It's be boring around here without you! O well, o we manage to collect some pictures for you and place them inside this album. It was hard to find some of you with your family. Did your mom burn them with they left? Hope you like it. See you during summer, and I mean the time when it's hot not Summer, k? Bye!_

_~The Daughters of Nature_

"What are you doing?" said an angry voice from behind.

Draco almost drop the album in surprise. He didn't hear Angel coming down the stairs till she talked.

"Um, you forgot it and I um got curious," Draco say embarrass that he was caught. He handed the album back to her.

Angel took it before noticing that he had the letter and narrow her eyes at him. "What did you read?"

"Um, about you switching schools and about this album," said Draco nervous. He didn't know why, but this girl freak him out a bit. He was glad when Angel nodded. She pointed at the letter which Draco quickly gave back.

"Thanks, promise not to tell anyone about me switching schools? All they know is that I was sick so I couldn't come here last year," said Angel hopefully, but still had that 'tell and I will make you regret' voice. Draco nodded, he noticed that she hold the album kind of closely to her body.

"Do you mind if I can ask about the letter? Your new here and I need to know more about you so I can warn you what you can and can't do," Said Draco, crossing his arms across his crest. Hoping to cover his mistake of being a bit to nice.

Angel raise an eyebrow, not believe his act one bit. "Is that some lame excuse for you to say that you might want to be my friend, or acquaintances at least?"

Draco looked away, trying to hide the blush that threaten to appear. He slightly nodded. Angel sighed and walked to where she was sitting. Draco slowly followed and sat in the chair next to her.

"So what do you want to know about the letter?" Asked Angel.

"Everything," replied Draco.

Angel nodded, happy that he had asked an easy question. "Ok, I have some friends who were sad that I was switching schools so they decide to collect a ton of pictures so I won't forget them. My parents accidentally set off a fire when we were moving which caused some of our family pictures to burn." Angel said, narrowing her eyes as soon as she said family, luckily, Draco didn't notice.

Draco nodded and closed his eyes before asking, "Who's the Daughter's of Nature?"

Angel smiled and laughed a bit. "It's a group name that we chose. We all got nicknames; moon, ice, dark, shadow, wind, fire, earth, water, flower, and an. I'm Devil's Child, but they call me Dev for short."

Draco looked at her for a bit. "Do you mind if I call you Dev?"

"Not at all, but it's our little secret with the rest of the stuff, ok?" said Angel, closing one of her eyes and placing a finger in front of her mouth.

Draco nodded, blushing a bit, she kind of looks cute like that, he quickly shook his head and soon they started to talk about more stuff as the day went by. Draco couldn't help but think. He started out hating her and now, he's starting to enjoy talking to her.

* * *

"Hey, Dev? Why are you laughing?" Draco asked.

"O I was just remembering about how we meet," Angel said, causing Draco to flinch a bit, he also remember it a bit to well for his liking.

Soon the whole Quidditch team was awake and hanging around the common room. Flint was talking to his team before walking over to Angel. Angel tilted her head to him, she was reading a book.

"Dev, we were thinking how about you join the team as the new Chaser?" Angel looked at Draco, narrowing her eyes a bit, he told them her nickname but quickly study him. He had a puppy dog look on his face. He really wanted Angel to join with him. She sighed and nodded. "Great, come on, practice is going to start." Angel nodded and walked next to Draco, hitting him on the head before heading out to the locker room to dress in the Slytherin Quidditch clothes. As soon as she came out, Draco handed her a broom, still rubbing the now form bruise, damn, she can hit hard.

"It's the new Nimbus Two Thousand and One, father got them just for the team," Said Draco, he back away from Angel when she gave him a look, he was slightly scared of her now. "I promise that's all I want ok?"

Angel nodded and walk towards the Quidditch field with her team. There, they meet with the Gryffindor team and Malfoy just had to insult Hermione. Angel know that what Mudblood means but she still didn't like it, she been called something like that before. She couldn't help but laugh, though, when Ron's spell backfired. Sure it was mean but she hadn't had a good laugh in a while.

Soon, they started to practice. The whole team was amaze at how quick Angel was with flying and scoring. The truth is, Angel knew how to fly before, it relaxed her when she was stress. And it help getting to where she needed to get when she couldn't use her other methods of transportation.

Practice ended sooner then Angel expected it to end. She didn't mind but she did wish that she could fly a bit more. Draco noticed her look of disappoint and gave Flint the excuse that he and Angel needed to practice a bit more if they wanted to good for the first Quidditch match. Flint nodded, agreeing and the rest of the team left.

"Thanks Dray," said Angel thankful. "Let me get out of these clothes and we'll continue flying."

Draco nodded and decide to do the same. Angel was the first to finish dressing back into her normal clothes and was lazing flying. Draco laughed at the sight.

"How can you do that?" asked Draco once he stopped laughing.

"Easy when you have friends like mine, you need to learn quick or you'll be in the hospital for a month," reply Angel.

They spent a good hour flying around before going back to the common room. Angel then left Draco to go to a empty room. But not before she ran into Harry.

"Angel!" Harry called out to her.

Angel turned around and tilted her head to him. "What is it Potter?"

Harry looked around before grabbing Angel and dragging her to an empty classroom. Angel protest to him about it. "Why are you so mean to us?"

"Why? Did you forget that you nearly got me killed!" said Angel not very happy.

Harry didn't looked at her in the eyes. "Can you at least answer this question? Why are you in Slytherin?"

Angel looked at him carefully before answering. "I don't know, ask the sorting hat." And with that, she left the room.

Angel know that was mean but she needed to be alone, or else her fun would end.

Soon, she find an empty classroom and fell asleep in a desk, she was tired.

_"Come… come to me… Let me rip you.. .Let me tear you.. .Let me kill you…"_

Angel quickly open her eyes, they were flashing red, till they stayed red. "So, you decide to make yourself known."

She yawn and took out a notebook. She wrote in it before a doll appear.

"Dev, you know what to do right?" it asked.

"Why me?" Angel complain. Anyone would had freaked if they heard a doll talking but Angel was used to it. The doll was the only way for her to talk with her best friend, Diana.

"Come on Dev, you're the only one who can stop it," the doll give her the puppy dog look.

"Fine but you so owe me," Angel said even though she knew of one more person who could stop it also. The doll nodded. "ok."

The doll smiled and disappeared. Angel sighed and hid the notebook and walked outside and dragged herself down the stairs. She headed towards her dormitory and fell on the bed. Today just wasn't her day.

* * *

**So what did you think? Should i write more Angel days or keep writing in Harrys view (how the book is)? now back to my loney place, lol jk. remember R&R please. cause i do want to know if i should continue writing chapters like this. enjoy your weekend!**

**PS: i have a poll on my profile, so please vote, the question is, should i write a sequel to Harry Potter Mets the Devil's Child?**

**Maybe later**

**yes**

**no**

**so do help me decide, thanks!**

**~moon **


	8. Chapter 8

**Hihi! ok sorry i haven't update then again, i was busy with schoolwork, homework, and other stuff. now to the story, remember this is base on the book but the chapters aren't the same, i change them to my liking. And I fix the chapter, hope you like it.**

**Disclaimer: i dont own anything except Angel, she's mine! enjoy!**

**The Deathday Party**

October arrived, spreading a damp chill over the grounds and into the castle. Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, was kept busy by a sudden spate of colds among the staff and students. Her Pepperup potion worked instantly, though it left the drinker smoking at the ears for several hours afterward. Ginny Weasley, who had been looking pale, was bullied into taking some by Percy. The steam pouring from under her vivid hair gave the impression that her whole head was on fire. Harry and gang had a good laugh when they saw Malfoy with smoking ears.

It has been raining for days on end, and it's not that normal kind of rain. No it has to be the kind that has raindrops the size of bullets. And yet Oliver Wood's enthusiasm for regular training sessions, however, was not dampened, which was why Harry was to be found, late one stormy Saturday afternoon a few days before Halloween, returning to Gryffindor Tower, drenched to the skin and splattered with mud.

Even aside from the rain and wind it hadn't been a happy practice session. Fred and George, who had been spying on the Slytherin team, had seen for themselves the speed of those new Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones. They reported that the Slytherin team was no more than seven greenish blurs, shooting through the air like missiles, they also reported that Angel seems bored when she practice.

Harry couldn't help but question with the rest of the team to why she was bored. Perhaps she getting tired of the team and might quit, but sadly, that is only a slim hope.

As Harry squelched along the deserted corridor he came across somebody who looked just as preoccupied as he was. Nearly Headless Nick, the ghost of Gryffindor Tower, was staring morosely out of a window, muttering under his breath, "… don't fulfill their requirements… half an inch, if that…"

"Hello, Nick," said Harry.

"Hello, hello," said Nearly Headless Nick, starting and looking round. He was pale as smoke, and Harry could see right through him to the dark sky and torrential rain outside.

Somehow, they talked about how Nick should have join the Headless Hunt. Harry also told Nick his problems when Filch burst suddenly through a tapestry to Harry's right, wheezing and looking wildly about for the rule-breaker. There was a thick tartan scarf bound around his head, and his nose was unusually purple.

"Filth!" he shouted, his jowls aquiver, his eyes popping alarmingly as he pointed at the muddy puddle that had dripped from Harry's Quidditch robes. "Mess and muck everywhere! I've had enough of it, I tell you! Follow me, Potter!"

So Harry waved a gloomy good-bye to Nearly Headless Nick and followed Filch back downstairs, doubling the number of muddy footprints on the floor. Harry had never been inside Filch's office before; it was a place most students avoided. The room was dingy and windowless, lit by a single oil lamp dangling from the low ceiling. A faint smell of fried fish lingered about the place. Wooden filing cabinets stood around the walls; from their labels, Harry could see that they contained details of every pupil Filch had ever punished. Fred and George Weasley had an entire drawer to themselves. Surprise, surprise.

A highly polished collection of chains and manacles hung on the wall behind Filch's desk. It was common knowledge that he was always begging Dumbledore to let him suspend students by their ankles from the ceiling. Though, thankfully, he didn't.

Filch grabbed a quill from a pot on his desk and began shuffling around looking for parchment.

"Dung," he muttered furiously, "great sizzling dragon bogies… frog brains… rat intestines… I've had enough of it… make an example… where's the form… yes…"

He retrieved a large roll of parchment from his desk drawer and stretched it out in front of him, dipping his long black quill into the ink pot.

"Name… Harry Potter. Crime…"

"It was only a bit of mud!" said Harry.

"It's only a bit of mud to you, boy, but to me it's an extra hour scrubbing!" shouted Filch, a drip shivering unpleasantly at the end of his bulbous nose. "Crime… befouling the castle… suggested sentence…"

Dabbing at his streaming nose, Filch squinted unpleasantly at Harry who waited with bated breath for his sentence to fall.

But as Filch lowered his quill, there was a great BANG! on the ceiling of the office, which made the oil lamp rattle.

"PEEVES!" Filch roared, flinging down his quill in a transport of rage. "I'll have you this time, I'll have you!"

And without a backward glance at Harry, Filch ran flat-footed from the office, Mrs. Norris streaking alongside him.

Peeves was the school poltergeist, a grinning, airborne menace who lived to cause havoc and distress. Harry didn't much like Peeves, but couldn't help feeling grateful for his timing. Hopefully, whatever Peeves had done (and it sounded as though he'd wrecked something very big this time) would distract Filch from Harry.

Thinking that he should probably wait for Filch to come back, Harry sank into a moth-eaten chair next to the desk. Unknown to him, something or someone was silently watching him, thinking that he should get out now, but sighed when saw that he didn't.

Harry looked on the desk and saw that there was only one thing on it apart from his half-completed form: a large, glossy, purple envelope with silver lettering on the front. With a quick glance at the door to check that Filch wasn't on his way back, Harry picked up the envelope and read:

Kwikspell

A Correspondence Course in Beginners' Magic.

Intrigued, Harry flicked the envelope open and pulled out the sheaf of parchment inside. He read it and realized that Filch might come back any second but sadly place the letter about five feet away from where it used to be. _Stupid._ thought the person before walking away, thinking that somehow, Harry would manage to get away without being punish. And indeed, he did. He had left Filch's office and headed up the stairs.

"Harry! Harry! Did it work?"

Nearly Headless Nick came gliding out of a classroom near Harry as he went up the stairs to his common room, obvious to the person who was watching him just minutes ago. Behind him, Harry could see the wreckage of a large black-and-gold cabinet that appeared to have been dropped from a great height.

"I persuaded Peeves to crash it right over Filch's office," said Nick eagerly. "Thought it might distract him —"

"Was that you?" said Harry gratefully. "Yeah, it worked, I didn't even get detention. Thanks, Nick!"

They set off up the corridor together. Nearly Headless Nick, Harry noticed, was still holding Sir Patrick's rejection letter…

"I wish there was something I could do for you about the Headless Hunt," Harry said. Nearly Headless Nick stopped in his tracks and Harry walked right through him. He wished he hadn't; it was like stepping through an icy shower.

"But there is something you could do for me," said Nick excitedly. "Harry — would I be asking too much — but no, you wouldn't want —"

"What is it?" said Harry.

"Well, this Halloween will be my five hundredth deathday," said Nearly Headless Nick, drawing himself up and looking dignified.

"Oh," said Harry, not sure whether he should look sorry or happy about this. "Right."

"I'm holding a party down in one of the roomier dungeons. Friends will be coming from all over the country. It would be such an honor if you would attend. Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger would be most welcome, too, of course — but I daresay you'd rather go to the school feast?" He watched Harry on tenterhooks.

"No," said Harry quickly, "I'll come —"

"My dear boy! Harry Potter, at my deathday party! And —" he hesitated, looking excited "— do you think you could possibly mention to Sir Patrick how very frightening and impressive you find me?"

"Of — of course," said Harry.

Nearly Headless Nick beamed at him. "Perfect, that sweet young lady also said she might stop by also!" he reply as he floated away, leaving a very confuse Harry behind.

_Who? _Thought Harry before continuing his way to tell his friends.

"A deathday party?" said Hermione keenly when Harry had changed at last and joined her and Ron in the common room. "I bet there aren't many living people who can say they've been to one of those — it'll be fascinating!"

"Why would anyone want to celebrate the day they died?" said Ron, who was halfway through his Potions homework and grumpy. "Sounds dead depressing to me…"

Rain was still lashing the windows, which were now inky black, but inside all looked bright and cheerful. The firelight glowed over the countless squashy armchairs where people sat reading, talking, doing homework or, in the case of Fred and George Weasley, trying to find out what would happen if you fed a Filibuster firework to a salamander.

Fred had "rescued" the brilliant orange, fire-dwelling lizard from a Care of Magical Creatures class and it was now smoldering gently on a table surrounded by a knot of curious people.

Harry was at the point of telling Ron and Hermione about Filch and the Kwikspell course and the girl going to the deathday also when the salamander suddenly whizzed into the air, emitting loud sparks and bangs as it whirled wildly round the room. The sight of Percy bellowing himself hoarse at Fred and George, the spectacular display of tangerine stars showering from the salamander's mouth, and its escape into the fire, with accompanying explosions, drove both Filch and the Kwikspell envelope and the girl from Harry's mind.

By the time Halloween arrived, Harry was regretting his rash promise to go to the deathday party. The rest of the school was happily anticipating their Halloween feast; the Great Hall had been decorated with the usual live bats, Hagrid's vast pumpkins had been carved into lanterns large enough for three men to sit in, and there were rumors that Dumbledore had booked a troupe of dancing skeletons for the entertainment.

"A promise is a promise," Hermione reminded Harry bossily. "You said you'd go to the deathday party."

So at seven o'clock, Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked straight past the doorway to the packed Great Hall, which was glittering invitingly with gold plates and candles, and directed their steps instead toward the dungeons, they were surprise to see Angel there, going up towards the feast.

"Angel? What are you doing here?" asked Harry. Angel looked at them and muttered under her breathe.

"Nothing, I felt like I needed a walk, bye." said Angel as she walked past them.

Harry and the gang looked at each and continued to walk down the passageway leading to Nearly Headless Nick's party had been lined with candles, too, though the effect was far from cheerful: These were long, thin, jet-black tapers, all burning bright blue, casting a dim, ghostly light even over their own living faces. The temperature dropped with every step they took.

As Harry shivered and drew his robes tightly around him, he heard what sounded like a thousand fingernails scraping an enormous blackboard.

"Is that supposed to be music?" Ron whispered. They turned a corner and saw Nearly Headless Nick standing at a doorway hung with black velvet drapes.

"My dear friends," he said mournfully. "Welcome, welcome… so pleased you could come… that nice young lady just left though. Sad that you didn't meet her."

He swept off his plumed hat and bowed them inside. Though they were slightly confuse at who had just left, they enter without a word.

It was an incredible sight they all thought. The dungeon was full of hundreds of pearly-white, translucent people, mostly drifting around a crowded dance floor, waltzing to the dreadful, quavering sound of thirty musical saws, played by an orchestra on a raised, black-draped platform. A chandelier overhead blazed midnight-blue with a thousand more black candles. Their breath rose in a mist before them; it was like stepping into a freezer.

"Shall we have a look around?" Harry suggested, wanting to warm up his feet.

"Careful not to walk through anyone," said Ron nervously, and they set off around the edge of the dance floor. They passed a group of gloomy nuns, a ragged man wearing chains, and the Fat Friar, a cheerful Hufflepuff ghost, who was talking to a knight with an arrow sticking out of his forehead. Harry wasn't surprised to see that the Bloody Baron, a gaunt, staring Slytherin ghost covered in silver bloodstains, was being given a wide berth by the other ghosts.

"Oh, no," said Hermione, stopping abruptly. "Turn back, turn back, I don't want to talk to Moaning Myrtle —"

"Who?" said Harry as they backtracked quickly.

"She haunts one of the toilets in the girls' bathroom on the first floor," said Hermione quickly.

"She haunts a toilet?"

"Yes. It's been out-of-order all year because she keeps having tantrums and flooding the place. I never went in there anyway if I could avoid it; it's awful trying to have a pee with her wailing at you —"

"Look, food!" said Ron, changing the subject.

On the other side of the dungeon was a long table, also covered in black velvet. They approached it eagerly but next moment had stopped in their tracks, horrified. The smell was quite disgusting. Large, rotten fish were laid on handsome silver platters; cakes, burned charcoal-black, were heaped on salvers; there was a great maggoty haggis, a slab of cheese covered in furry green mold and, in pride of place, an enormous gray cake in the shape of a tombstone, with tar-like icing forming the words,

SIR NICHOLAS DE MIMSY-PORPINGTON

DIED 31ST OCTOBER, 1492

Harry watched, amazed, as a portly ghost approached the table, crouched low, and walked through it, his mouth held wide so that it passed through one of the stinking salmon.

"Can you taste it if you walk though it?" Harry asked him.

"Almost," said the ghost sadly, and he drifted away.

"I expect they've let it rot to give it a stronger flavor," said Hermione knowledgeably, pinching her nose and leaning closer to look at the putrid haggis.

"Can we move? I feel sick," said Ron, looking a bit green.

They had barely turned around, however, when a little man swooped suddenly from under the table and came to a halt in midair before them.

"Hello, Peeves," said Harry cautiously.

Unlike the ghosts around them, Peeves the Poltergeist was the very reverse of pale and transparent. He was wearing a bright orange party hat, a revolving bow tie, and a broad grin on his wide, wicked face.

"Nibbles?" he said sweetly, offering them a bowl of peanuts covered in fungus.

"No thanks," said Hermione.

"Heard you talking about poor Myrtle," said Peeves, his eyes dancing. "Rude you was about poor Myrtle." He took a deep breath and bellowed, "OY! MYRTLE!"

"Oh, no, Peeves, don't tell her what I said, she'll be really upset," Hermione whispered frantically. "I didn't mean it, I don't mind her — er, hello, Myrtle."

The squat ghost of a girl had glided over. She had the glummest face Harry had ever seen, half-hidden behind lank hair and thick, pearly spectacles.

"What?" she said sulkily.

"How are you, Myrtle?" said Hermione in a falsely bright voice. "It's nice to see you out of the toilet."

Myrtle sniffed.

"Miss Granger was just talking about you —" said Peeves slyly in Myrtle's ear. "Just saying —"

"Just saying — saying — how nice you look tonight," said Hermione, glaring at Peeves.

Myrtle eyed Hermione suspiciously.

"You're making fun of me," she said, silver tears welling rapidly in her small, see-through eyes.

"No — honestly — didn't I just say how nice Myrtle's looking?" said Hermione, nudging Harry and Ron painfully in the ribs.

"Oh, yeah —"

"She did —"

"Don't lie to me," Myrtle gasped, tears now flooding down her face, while Peeves chuckled happily over her shoulder. "D'you think I don't know what people call me behind my back? Fat Myrtle! Ugly Myrtle! Miserable, moaning, moping Myrtle!"

"You've forgotten pimply," Peeves hissed in her ear.

Moaning Myrtle burst into anguished sobs and fled from the dungeon. Peeves shot after her, pelting her with moldy peanuts, yelling, "Pimply! Pimply!"

"Oh, dear," said Hermione sadly.

Nearly Headless Nick now drifted toward them through the crowd. He had ask them if they were enjoying themselves before heading off to do his speech. Sadly, about a dozen horses, each ridden by a headless horseman burst through the dungeon wall. The assembly clapped wildly; Harry started to clap, too, but stopped quickly at the sight of Nick's face.

The horses galloped into the middle of the dance floor and halted, rearing and plunging. At the front of the pack was a large ghost who held his bearded head under his arm, from which position he was blowing the horn. The ghost leapt down, lifted his head high in the air so he could see over the crowd (everyone laughed), and strode over to Nearly Headless Nick, squashing his head back onto his neck.

"Nick!" he roared. "How are you? Head still hanging in there?"

He gave a hearty guffaw and clapped Nearly Headless Nick on the shoulder. Nick welcome the ghost, Patrick, stiffly before Sir Patrick noticed the trio. Harry had tried to convince him that Nick was frightening before he was cut off by the headless ghost. Nick then decided to do his speech but was rudely interrupted by the Headless Hunt and just gave up, since the crowd was more interested on their game then him.

Harry was very cold by now, not to mention hungry.

"I can't stand much more of this," Ron muttered, his teeth chattering, as the orchestra ground back into action and the ghosts swept back onto the dance floor.

"Let's go," Harry agreed.

They backed toward the door, nodding and beaming at anyone who looked at them, and a minute later were hurrying back up the passageway full of black candles.

"Pudding might not be finished yet," said Ron hopefully, leading the way toward the steps to the entrance hall, and ran straight into someone.

"Ouch!" both Ron and Angel yelled. Harry and Hermione looked at Angel confuse.

"What?" Angel asked as she glared at Ron.

"What are you doing here?" Ron yelled, rubbing his head. Angel looked at him then sighed.

"I'm going to the girl's bathroom, is that against the rules?" asked Angel. She made a move to walk past them when she stopped. Harry was about to ask why she stop when he heard it.

_"… rip… tear… kill…"_

It was the same voice, the same cold, murderous voice he had heard in Lockhart's office.

"Harry, what're you —?"

"It's that voice again — shut up a minute —"

_"… soo hungry… for so long…"_

"Listen!" said Harry urgently, and Ron and Hermione froze, watching him. Angel looked at him also, but she was in deep thought.

_"… kill… time to kill…"_

The voice was growing fainter. Harry was sure it was moving away — moving upward. A mixture of fear and excitement gripped him as he stared at the dark ceiling; how could it be moving upward? Was it a phantom, to whom stone ceilings didn't matter?

"This way," he shouted, and he began to run, up the stairs, into the entrance hall. It was no good hoping to hear anything here, the babble of talk from the Halloween feast was echoing out of the Great Hall. Harry sprinted up the marble staircase to the first floor, Ron and Hermione clattering behind him, Angel stayed behind, looking at them.

"Harry, what're we —"

"SHH!"

Harry strained his ears. Distantly, from the floor above, and growing fainter still, he heard the voice: _"… I smell blood… I SMELL BLOOD!"_

His stomach lurched —

"It's going to kill someone!" he shouted, and ignoring Ron's and Hermione's bewildered faces, he ran up the next flight of steps three at a time, trying to listen over his own pounding footsteps — Harry hurtled around the whole of the second floor, Ron and Hermione panting behind him, not stopping until they turned a corner into the last, deserted passage.

"Harry, what was that all about?" said Ron, wiping sweat off his face. "I couldn't hear anything…"

But Hermione gave a sudden gasp, pointing down the corridor.

"Look!"

Something was shining on the wall ahead. They approached slowly, squinting through the darkness. Foot-high words had been daubed on the wall between two windows, shimmering in the light cast by the flaming torches.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.

ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE

"What's that thing — hanging underneath?" said Ron, a slight quiver in his voice.

As they edged nearer, Harry almost slipped — there was a large puddle of water on the floor; Ron and Hermione grabbed him, and they inched toward the message, eyes fixed on a dark shadow beneath it. All three of them realized what it was at once, and leapt backward with a splash.

Mrs. Norris, the caretaker's cat, was hanging by her tail from the torch bracket. She was stiff as a board, her eyes wide and staring.

For a few seconds, they didn't move. Then Ron said, "Let's get out of here."

"Shouldn't we try and help —" Harry began awkwardly.

"Trust me," said Ron. "We don't want to be found here."

But it was too late. A rumble, as though of distant thunder, told them that the feast had just ended. From either end of the corridor where they stood came the sound of hundreds of feet climbing the stairs, and the loud, happy talk of well-fed people; next moment, students were crashing into the passage from both ends.

The chatter, the bustle, the noise died suddenly as the people in front spotted the hanging cat. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood alone, in the middle of the corridor, as silence fell among the mass of students pressing forward to see the grisly sight.

Then someone shouted through the quiet.

"Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!"

It was Draco Malfoy. He had pushed to the front of the crowd, his cold eyes alive, his usually bloodless face flushed, as he grinned at the sight of the hanging, immobile cat. Angel followed, her eyes widen as she spotted the cat. But before anyone can notice, Angel's eyes return to being emotionless. She said something kind of faint but Harry was able to catch what she was saying.

"It has began."

What has began?

**Thanks for reading! Hopefully it's better now. R&R**

_**Next time: the Rogue Bludger (im stepping the writing on the wall, can't add anything to it)**_

_**Rogue Bludger, "Watch out Harry!" **_

_**Someone that they never expected helped Harry, "Why did you help me back there?" **_

_**this someone objects that she didn't help him, "I don't know what you're talking about Potter" **_

_**Dobby visits Harry, "You should have go back home when Harry Potter miss the train! you should let her stop the plot!"**_

_**Who is this girl that Dobby keeps talking about? "Who's her Dobby?" **_

_**Yet Dobby will not say who, "Dobby can not say sir." **_

_**what will happen?**_

**Thinks again for reading! ill try to update soon!**

**~moon**


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